


Christmas Isn't Cancelled

by starlightpeddler



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers, Post-Canon, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Pre-Slash, Survivor Guilt, emotional breakdown, slytherins have feelings too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightpeddler/pseuds/starlightpeddler
Summary: Albus Potter isn't doing well after the events of Godric's Hollow. In fact, he's doing very poorly, and it's up to those who love him the most to help him through it. Even Scorpius can't seem to cheer him up, and it will take a Christmas miracle to break him out of this rut.





	1. The Night After

Albus stood silent on the sidewalk, staring at a group of teenage muggles across the street. They were looking down with their faces lit by the bright glow of their cell phones, talking to one another while they scrolled up and down with their thumbs.

They were back in Godric's Hollow, 2020.

To his left stood Scorpius, leaning into Draco's side, his face buried in his father's shoulder. Draco's chin rested atop Scorpius' head as he held him, rubbing comforting circles into his son's back. He was looking past Albus to the scene Albus knew he had to face, but wasn't sure he could handle.

Albus turned around anyway.

Harry's back was to him, and he was being held by Ginny. Albus marveled at his mother's strength, both physically and emotionally as she held up his father, whose knees seemed to have gone weak again. Ron and Hermione stood nearby, huddled close around them. Hermione was muttering something to Harry - something he nodded to with his face still hidden in Ginny's shoulder - and Albus noticed that she and Ron were gripping one another's hands until their knuckles were white.

It was only then that Albus realized one of his hands was occupied too. Harry still had ahold of his hand from the jump forward in time and he wasn't trying to pull Albus into the huddle, but he wasn't letting go either.

Albus looked at them, confused as he listened to their voices. He wasn't hearing words - it was a garbled mess as if he were underwater. Hermione was speaking in a soothing tone that Albus recognized. His aunt had used it many times when he'd been upset as a child. Now, though, it didn't make sense. Everything was gibberish.

He looked up to his mother, who raised her face from the mess of Harry's hair to catch his eye. Albus could see the tears on her face as she held her husband, and Albus noticed that Harry's shoulders were still shaking as if he were sobbing, but Albus couldn't distinguish his sobs or silence from the shifting hum of voices and cars passing by on the street.

His mother said something to him. He saw her mouth moving, but her voice was muffled. Albus shook his head, not understanding, and he saw her confusion but she was unable to let go of Harry as he leaned into her.

Albus felt a hand at his shoulder and jumped, more than a little startled. His heart skipped a beat in fear and he twisted around, still clutching his father's hand, and found himself looking directly into Draco Malfoy's eyes. Albus swallowed hard as Scorpius hugged him, and the familiarity of it broke through the fog and the distorted mess of sounds started to separate. Voices distinguished themselves, and Hermione's soothing words untangled themselves from Ginny's questions and Draco's concern.

"Are you alright, Albus?" Draco asked. Albus wrapped his free arm around Scorpius' waist and hugged him back, nodding to Draco.

"I don't think I'm hurt," Albus said. He couldn't feel any pain - no more than some bruises and maybe a scrape or two.

Still, Draco looked suspicious, as if Albus hadn't answered his question at all.

Scorpius let Albus go and wiped away a few tears with the sleeve of his jumper before Draco wrapped his arm back around his shoulder and pulled him close. Albus felt a gentle tug on his hand and looked to see Harry straightening, pulling himself together and standing on his own. Ron drew his wand and conjured a handkerchief, which Harry accepted and quickly mopped up his face.

Harry, unlike Albus, seemed to have been aware that he was holding his son's hand the entire time. As soon as he tucked the handkerchief into the pocket of his waistcoat, he turned, gently tugging Albus closer. Albus looked up at Harry. His glasses were foggy and his skin was red from emotion and exertion. There was a cut across his right eyebrow and a bruise spreading along his jaw from the duel or the rough transfiguration – Albus couldn't be sure which.

"Al, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, dad," Albus said quickly as Harry held his hand tighter. "Really, I…"

He trailed off and looked away, down at his half-undone shoelaces and the trampled grass beneath his feet.

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"Me?" Albus said. He looked up to find his dad staring down at him intently, fresh tears in his eyes. Albus had seen both his parents cry before – at funerals, or when they talked about particularly difficult things in their pasts – but this was something he'd never seen from his father. It was like a mask had been torn away, leaving Harry raw and open like a fresh wound, and Albus looked away again at a lamppost just over his father's shoulder.

"It's my fault you had to see it," Albus said. "It's my fault you had to watch."

"No, it's not, Albus," Harry said. "I mean that. None of this was your fault. You drew her into the light. You got the message to me on the blanket. You probably saved my life when you climbed through that grate, too. You likely saved all our lives, really."

He pulled at Albus carefully, and in his weak, dazed state Albus couldn't do anything but comply as Harry drew him into a firm embrace. Albus buried his face in his father's shoulder as the words and sounds started to blend together again. Scorpius' shrill, stressed voice blended into Hermione's solid commands, and Albus leaned into Harry, beaten and disoriented, until they headed home.

* * *

After apparating home, Albus let Uncle Ron guide him to a seat at the dining room table. He was vaguely aware of Scorpius being seated at his side while the others moved around. It was odd seeing the Malfoys in their home – to Albus' knowledge, Draco had never been here before and he had denied Scorpius every opportunity to visit. Seeing his best friend fidgeting with the deep red placemat Grandma Molly had sewn was such a clash of worlds that Albus' mind couldn't parse them together. It felt like two separate, very different lives converging into something that threatened to swallow him whole.

Albus watched, only half paying attention, as one by one the adults came into the room. Ginny lay a collection of Honeydukes' best chocolate at the center of the table. Draco carried glasses and set one in front of each place around the table. Harry brought in a half empty bottle of firewhisky and set it in the center of the table. Ron set a full one at its side and gave Harry a stern look that clearly said he should have known better, and Harry nodded with a sheepish look.

They collapsed into the chairs. Draco landed at Scorpius' side, and Scorpius leaned over onto his father's shoulder. Once again, Hermione and Ron were gripping each other's hands, and Albus watched in strange wonder as Harry paused to pull Ginny's chair out for her before taking his own seat. Her red hair fell across her face and Albus couldn't see his father's scar from his seat, and for the briefest moment they could have been Lily and James as they took their seats at their small dining room table – the one Albus now knew had a jack-o-lantern in the center at their final meal of roast chicken and potatoes.

He looked down, staring at the threads of his placemat. No one spoke, but Albus heard drinks being poured and candy wrappers being ripped apart in haste. He didn't look up until he heard his mother speak.

"Just one," Ginny said. "They're old enough."

He was startled to see the bottle of Blishen's Firewhisky levitating over Scorpius' small glass, tipping itself over and filling it halfway with the dark amber liquid. A seat away, Draco had his wand pointed lazily at the bottle, watching as it moved on to Albus' glass, pouring the same amount of liquid before sending the bottle to settle at the center of the table atop a few chocolate bar wrappers.

Albus stared down into his glass for a long moment, looking at the shimmering surface and breathing in the cinnamon and heat until he felt someone staring at him. He looked up across the table at Harry, who raised his glass a tiny bit to Albus. For an awkward pause, Albus didn't know what to do, but then he seized his own tumbler and raised it before taking a drink with his father.

The firewhisky burned. Beside him, Scorpius made a noise of displeasure at his first sip, but still went back for a second as Albus drank more, relishing the pain as it ran down his throat and into his veins. He imagined it tearing through his chest and stomach where he felt all the guilt and pain and finding that spot in the back of his mind that kept replaying Lily's melodic voice pleading for her child's life and the sound of his father screaming as he watched her crumple to the ground like a ragdoll.

"Just this once," Draco said at his side. In Albus' periphery, he saw Scorpius nod and take another sip.

After another moment of silence, Ron spoke.

"I feel like we should be talking about what happened," he said, looking at Harry, Ginny and Hermione. "But I don't know what to say."

"Not much to say," Hermione said. With a flick of her want she summoned the fresh bottle of firewhisky, broke the seal and poured herself another drink. "The boys told us everything that happened up until we got there, right?"

Albus looked at Scorpius. They'd given an overview of the chain of events that led them to Godric's Hollow and he didn't think they'd missed anything, but Albus still wasn't sure he understood everything that happened to Scorpius in the dark timeline he'd visited alone. Scorpius nodded to Hermione, running his finger along the edge of his glass, and Albus knew there either wasn't anything relevant left to tell or Scorpius wasn't ready to discuss it.

"Yes, Minister."

"Hermione will do, Scorpius."

Scorpius smiled awkwardly, but didn't correct himself.

"I don't think we missed anything," Albus added.

Hermione looked at Ron, and then to Harry and Ginny.

"We're going to have to destroy it," Hermione said. "The last time-turner. And we're going to have to do it tonight before there's any proof for the _Prophet_ to find."

"We can do it here," Harry said. Albus looked to his father. His eyes were red behind his glasses, and his hair was more of a wreck than usual. Albus assumed his own wasn't much better and he ran a hand through it to check. His fingers caught on a nasty knot and he sighed, hoping there was some detangling potion upstairs. Harry gave him a sympathetic smile that didn't quite reach his mournful eyes before looking back to Hermione.

"They don't cause much of a fuss when they break, do they? I mean, those ones in the Department of Mysteries just broke on the floor."

"We'll just smash it," Ron decided. "We're good at that."

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione exchanged secret smiles. They did this when they were remembering things from their shared past – things they could talk about until they had nothing left to say, but that Albus could never really understand until now. Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone through nights like this one several times when they were younger than Albus was now. It was a regular occurrence throughout their Hogwarts years.

Albus looked between their faces with their sad, knowing smiles and had a new respect for everything they'd endured. He was considering opening his mouth to say so when Draco cleared his throat, breaking up the moment.

"Well, I think we should get on with it," he said. "I'm sure we're all exhausted and I plan to take Scorpius to St. Mungo's in the morning –"

"Dad," Scorpius whined. Draco gave him a single stern look that clearly said he wouldn't be dissuaded, and Scorpius looked down, defeated.

"Right, then," Ginny said, rising. Harry got to his feet beside her, unsteady, and something inside Albus ached. He wanted to help somehow, but Ginny wrapped her arm around his, and Harry smiled at her, placing her hand atop hers on his arm, and Albus knew there was nothing he could do as he stood up with everyone else.

"I think it's best you two stay in here," Draco said. "I don't know what kind of protective enchantments my father might have put on the time turner and I don't want to take any chances."

"Try not to destroy the world again," Ron joked. Hermione smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

                                                                                                                            

Harry and Ginny nodded in agreement, and Albus sank down into his chair, dejected. More than anything he wanted to help – to do _something_ meaningful that would feel like he was making amends, but as the adults left he was faced with the stark truth that there was nothing more he could do. This was the end of his and Scorpius' journey.

"Albus?"

Albus looked from the doorway to Scorpius, who was slumped down in the chair beside him. Scorpius looked nearly as rough as Albus felt. There was dirt and dust from the fight with Delphi on his face, and Albus spotted a small scratch over his cheekbone under the dirt and grime.

Albus took the last sip from the firewhisky, letting it burn all the way down into the pit of his stomach.

"Are you okay?" he asked Scorpius.

"I am. Are you?"

Albus swallowed again. He couldn't lie to Scorpius when his best friend was looking at him like that – so earnest and concerned. He remembered Scorpius shouting at him in the library and calling him a terrible friend and then thought of how he'd smiled just hours ago and assured Albus that he wouldn't want to be with anyone else at the return of eternal darkness.

Albus had known for a long time that he didn't deserve Scorpius' friendship. He was certain of it now more than ever.

"I am," Albus lied. He'd already cost Scorpius enough and he didn't him spending any more time worrying. Scorpius deserved to go back to his normal life… after Draco assured he had a clean bill of health, of course.

Scorpius gave his usual, brilliant smile that, on a normal day, would have made Albus at least ten percent happier. Now, it made his heart sink even further.

"Good! That's good. That everyone is okay. I mean, your dad will be okay after some time. I'm sure of it. I don't know much about these things, but I've read all about everything he's been through – not the Rita Skeeter books, though. Ugh – but maybe this will… I don't know, give him some more closure? Knowing things really couldn't have been different?"

Albus gave him a somber look. "I don't think healing and closure are in dad's nature."

"You'd be surprised," Scorpius said. "People can surprise you. You're a lot like him, aren't you? And you surprise me all the time."

Scorpius smiled at him again and Albus looked down at his lap, seriously considering sneaking some more firewhisky. He couldn't bring himself to break any more rules.

Both he and Scorpius looked up to the window as a loud blast came from outside, accompanied by a small flash of light. Albus was terrified for a moment until he heard his mother laughing. Ron's muffled voice rang out as he made some joke, and within seconds he heard Draco and Ginny laugh too. There was another bang and then he heard his father's chuckle – not as jovial as the others', but still there.

"They're destroying it," Scorpius said. "The last time turner. Feels a bit odd to be destroying the last of something, but I'm glad. I'm glad no one will ever be able to do what we did."

Albus slumped forward and folded his arms on the table, resting his head atop them. He watched Scorpius ramble but didn't listen. His voice was becoming muffled again, and soon he sounded as far away as the others outside, finding some comfort and pleasure in destroying something that signified so much pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's December, and Christmas is right around the corner! I should be publishing a chapter a week leading up to the holiday, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to [@slytherin629](https://slytherin629.tumblr.com/) for beta reading and offering invaluable feedback!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr. ](http://ijustwalkintomordor.tumblr.com/)


	2. Back to Normal

Albus was still dazed when he returned to school in the first week of November. After a few days at home during which his mother had to force him to eat and his father actually took time off work to sit with him, Albus returned to Hogwarts on Wednesday evening with a bag of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes from Uncle Ron, a "fresh homework planner for a fresh start" from Aunt Hermione, a new hoodie that smelled like home from his mum, and a two-way mirror from his dad.

"Just in case you need to talk," Harry had said, looking down at Albus with his hands shoved in his pockets. Albus had tucked it carefully into the pocket of his sweater and screwed up his courage to look his father in the eye.

"Thanks," Albus said. Harry gave him one more bone-crushing hug before sending him on his way from McGonagall's office down to the Slytherin Common Room.

Albus trudged down to the Common Room, well aware that rumors had spread like wildfire across the student body – rumors that ranged from Albus and Scorpius killing Craig over a bad Quidditch bet to something closer to the truth: that he'd been murdered by the child of Voldemort – only some people still thought that child was Scorpius. Rose had written home about them in a rare stroke of kindness to warn her cousin about what he was returning to.

The Slytherin Common Room was full when he walked in, and it fell silent quickly upon his arrival. Countless eyes surveyed him up and down and Albus shifted uncomfortably on the spot, wishing he’d arranged to arrive with Scorpius.

"Um… hi," he said in response to the silence.

" _Is it true_?" An earnest second year stood up against the far edge of the room, knocking over his chess pieces in the process.

"Is what true?" Albus asked. He immediately regretted it.

"That Malfoy had paid Craig to do your potions homework for you because you're so bad at it, a-and when he didn't have it done you and Malfoy dueled him and –"

"Shut _up_ ," hissed one of the seventh year prefects. "Unless you want Malfoy coming after you too."

Albus frowned and looked around at all the eyes watching him. Most looked purely interested – there had been a death and they wanted to know what happened – but some of the younger students looked downright terrified. Albus spotted one of them hiding behind her older brother and sighed, wishing for what might have been the first time in his life that his own older brother was there to protect him.

"Scorpius and I didn't kill anyone," Albus said. His voice sounded especially loud in the silent room and the tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie with nervous hands. "There was someone else on the grounds. It's an ongoing investigation by the Ministry, but I'm sure information will come out soon. I can't say any more than that."

"I heard it was Voldemort's child that killed Craig," said a particularly swotty fifth year. Albus clenched his fists. "So I'm sure they'll be coming for Malfoy any day now."

"Scorpius isn't Voldemort's son," Albus growled. "I'm sure that much will be in the report."

"So Voldemort _does_ have a child?"

Albus clenched his jaw. He wanted so badly to answer – to tell them that there _was_ a child and that she was horrible and she'd murdered their classmate in front of them. He wanted to tell them all the gruesome details of the last weeks so they'd shut up and leave him alone. For once he _wanted_ people skirting him in the halls and cutting a wide berth for himself and Scorpius. For once, he genuinely wanted to be entirely ignored and had no deep longing for acceptance from anyone.

Albus didn't answer. Instead, he silently turned and walked down the hall toward the dorms. The hum of chatter rose behind him. It got louder and louder as he passed the doors and the hallway seemed to stretch out longer and longer in front of him, drawing the door to the fourth year boys' dorm farther away with each step.

"… _bet they did kill him…_ "

"… _Ministry's covering it up. Harry Potter can get away with anything…"_

_"He's already gotten away with murder. We all know there was something wrong with that illegal potions ring case."_

_"And his aunt is the minister!"_

_"Bet Malfoy paid off the papers."_

Albus shook his head, trying to block the voices out. He had enough buzzing about in his mind without the damning words of others.

 _I didn't cast the curse_ , _but I might as well have,_ Albus thought with no small measure of bitterness. He tried not to envision the flash of green light and the dull _thud_ Craig’s body had made as it hit the grass. He’d relived that moment so many times over the last few days, sometimes trapped in his own thoughts, unable to escape until something snapped him out of it. It was like being trapped in a waking nightmare at odd moments during the day.

Albus was so lost in thought he nearly passed his his dorm. His trainers squeaked on the polished floor as he turned sharply and opened the door.

He wasn't surprised to find the dorm empty. He'd spotted most of the boys in his year in the common room, but they'd fortunately had the good sense to remain silent. Albus – and by extension, Scorpius – had long ago come to an unspoken agreement with their roommates to maintain a somewhat mutual apathy. He didn't get in their way and by extension, they treated him as if he was just another student they didn't much care for.

Albus crossed over to the bed tucked in the corner of the half-circle room. He'd always taken the bed most removed from the action- farthest from where his roommates would get dressed while chatting, toss pillows and socks and sometimes books at one another, and have conversations about the girls they liked, the classes they hated and the families they tolerated.

The center of the room was empty now, but the cylinder heater at the center must have been lit recently. The center was warm, but Albus' bed in the corner was as cold as always. It wasn't until after he fell down onto it with a loud _huff_ that he noticed a familiar  jacket folded neatly on Scorpius' pillow next to a new book. Clearly, Scorpius had returned, and Albus wanted to go looking for him, but couldn't seem to motivate his body to agree. He lay on the mattress feeling heavy, more stone than human, staring at the items on his friend's bed.

 _At least there's someone here who knows what really happened_ , Albus told himself. It was meant to be a comforting thought, but the heaviness in his limbs and stomach didn't abate, nor did the physical, sinking feeling of dread that had settled into his chest this morning when he realized it was tomorrow that he'd have to return to real life.

Albus lay heavy on his mattress for a long time. His only movement was to look from Scorpius' bed up to the green velvet canopy above him. He wanted to pull the hangings around the bed and close himself in for the night, still dressed and still in need of a bath, but he wanted to talk with Scorpius when he returned and knew his friend would never disturb him if he thought he was asleep.

After what seemed like a long while, the bathroom door opened and Scorpius stepped out. He was wearing a crisp pair of blue striped pajamas and had a towel around his neck below his damp hair.

"Albus. You're back."

Albus looked at him, moving only enough to bring Scorpius into his line of sight. His voice had lacked its usual enthusiasm upon their meeting, but Albus couldn't blame him. He supposed Scorpius had been in the same frame of mind he had – wanting to go back to school where they'd be in the same place, but knowing that meant they'd have to discuss things.

"I am."

Scorpius ran the towel through his hair one more time before tossing it aside and sitting down beside Albus. His hair stuck out at odd angles and Albus could smell the soap from the most expensive apothecary in Diagon Alley.

"I worried about you," Scorpius said, fiddling with the hem of his pajama shirt. "Since Saturday night, I mean."

Albus winced at the memory.

"I was alright," Albus lied. He'd spent most of the last few days asleep or reading old fantasy novels to take his mind off things. In the evenings, he'd sat with Harry in the sitting room, staring into the fireplace or staring at the television without really watching it. They'd talk about recent events in short, clipped conversations no one was really ready to have, and Albus had spent three days trying to work up the courage to tell Harry everything he'd observed watching his grandparents in Godric's Hollow. He'd failed miserably.

Albus sighed and pulled himself into a sitting position with great effort. He wrapped his arms around his knees, needing to make himself as small as possible.

"I worried about you too," he admitted, now close enough to speak in little more than a whisper. He didn't know why their conversation needed to feel like a secret – there was no one around – but still Albus felt like any discussion of their recent adventure or its aftermath should be clandestine. Scorpius' mouth twitched a bit as he fought down a smile.

"That's nice of you to say," Scorpius said. "I expect you and your dad had a lot to talk about."

Albus shook his head. "No," he said. "Dad went to work for a bit yesterday. I did spend some time with him. Mum left us alone in the evenings but we just kind of… coexisted."

"That's not a bad thing," Scorpius said. "After mum died, sometimes dad and I would just sit by the fire and read our books in silence for hours. We wouldn't talk. We didn't need to, I guess."

"Did you talk while you were home?"

Scorpius nodded, staring over his own bed rather than at Albus.

"We did. I told him everything, and I mean _everything_ ," Scorpius said with a dark laugh. "Once I started talking it all just kind of… came out. I'm sorry – I don't think I made you look very good for part of the story."

"I don't deserve to look good for part of the story," Albus said. He wanted to apologize all over again. Now that they were back in their own time, Albus felt more and more guilty with each passing day – guilty for the way he'd treated Scorpius out of his own selfishness, guilty for not trying harder with his father, and most crushing of all, guilty for having started this whole time-turner debacle that led to Craig's death.

Scorpius didn't say anything for a long moment. His silence spoke volumes. It seemed that, on some level, he agreed with Albus, and Albus' heart sank even further.

"You don't sound like you're feeling well," Scorpius said. Albus shook his head.

"I’m tired," Albus lied again.

"Maybe you should get some sleep," Scorpius suggested. "I was about to turn in myself. I wasn't sure when you were coming back."

"Right," was all Albus could say.

"And you'll feel better after a good night's sleep! Some rest will do you good and we've got to get up bright and early to get caught up on our lessons," Scorpius said. Albus couldn't tell if his cheer was genuine or forced, but he was grateful all the same when Scorpius bounced up from his bed. He grinned down at Albus and his smile was too strained and his eyes too wide. Albus wondered if he was okay, but didn't know how to ask.

"Right," Albus agreed. "Bright and early. Er… good night?"

"Good night, Albus," Scorpius said. He took two long strides and fell into his own bed, drawing the hangings closed and leaving Albus in silence.

Albus stared at the heavy drapes for a moment with the same empty feeling he had after every conversation he'd had this week. It felt like it was cut short, just like the ones with his parents, and Albus felt a dull ache in his chest as he drew the heavy green velvet hangings closed. He lit his wand and pulled off his jeans and hoodie, tossing them over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. He didn't have the energy to go search for pajamas, and so he just crawled under the covers and drew them up around his shoulders, curling into the mattress and clutching his pillow.

Albus had never had problems telling small lies before. Pretending to be reading or doing homework or feigning exhaustion were all easy ways to get out of conversation, but lying to Scorpius just now had felt different. It felt like something tearing at his chest bit by bit, adding to the guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.

Albus closed his eyes as he heard his other roommates filing in and tried to rest. He lay for hours, drifting, alternately feeling like he was dozing off and battling against his rapidly beating heart, and when morning came he was both exhausted and grateful he could stop trying to sleep.

* * *

 

Scorpius was worried. He usually spent a lot of time worried in Care of Magical Creatures class, as interacting with dangerous beasts whose intensity increased with each passing year was not his forte, but today he was more worried than usual because Albus didn't seem to be enjoying his favorite class. Instead of giving his full attention to the three Centaurs who'd deigned to come and speak with them, he was shuffling his feet at the back of the group, scowling at his shoes and picking at his fingernails.

"Albus?" Scorpius whispered, nudging him in the ribs gently. Albus staggered, off balance and took a step back to catch himself. Scorpius frowned. Clearly Albus was more troubled than he looked.

"What?" Albus hissed, a bit of an edge to his voice.

Scorpius leaned away from him, taken aback.

"Sorry. It's just that you weren't paying attention. A-and they're talking about your dad."

Albus looked up. The Centaur in question was indeed discussing Harry, but indirectly. He was explaining how the movements of the planets had foretold the events of May 1998. Albus cringed.

"Everyone's always talking about my dad," Albus mumbled, more to his shoes than to Scorpius.

Scorpius twisted the hem of his jumper around his fingers. He was uncomfortable enough in classes now with everyone whispering behind their hands as they looked at him, inventing new rumors, each more wild than the last. He'd heard several that were positively sensational, and if they hadn't been so hurtful he would have been impressed by their originality.

But now Albus was acting strange and he looked quite miserable. That was something Scorpius couldn't stand for at all.

"You know, Albus," Scorpius began with a smirk, "I didn't turn back time and face Dementors for you to mope about and ruin a perfectly good Care of Magical Creatures lesson."

Albus looked at him, and Scorpius immediately knew he'd said the wrong thing. Albus looked hurt, and then his face contorted into a scowl.

"Well don't let me ruin it for you," he all but spat, and stalked off towards one of the overgrown pumpkins Hagrid grew along the edge of the grounds. It was a short walk away and was just within earshot of the class. Scorpius watched, dumbfounded, as Albus clamored up and sat atop it, leaning back against the base of the large vine. He was just about to walk over and ask Albus exactly what was wrong when the Centaur said his name.

"Pardon?" Scorpius asked, confused.

Several members of the class gave him irritated looks, but the centaur didn't seem to notice. He kept talking and Scorpius realized after a long moment of confusion that the Centaur was discussing astronomy and had been referencing the constellation and not him. He grimaced at his own faux pas and cursed the poor night's sleep that had left his mind feeling sluggish.

Scorpius pretended to be keenly interested in the lesson until his classmates had stopped looking at him over their shoulders as if he were a troll and not a person. When he was confident no one was paying attention, he looked over to the pumpkin, ready to approach Albus and apologize (though he wasn't sure what he was meant to be sorry for), and was shocked to see that Albus was gone. Scorpius looked to Hagrid, suddenly concerned, but Hagrid shook his head and offered a sad smile beneath his bushy gray beard before pointing back to the Centaur.

Scorpius wrapped his arms around himself and tried to listen to their discussion of constellations and planets, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Of course, he was always uneasy in lessons when Albus wasn’t around, but after everything that had happened since September, his absence felt more prominent than it ever had before.

* * *

Scorpius found Albus at the back of the library among the stacks of damaged and outdated books. He seemed lost in thought, sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring down at a piece of parchment with a his favorite quill in hand. For a moment Scorpius was proud. Clearly Albus had decided to start on their History of Magic essay early. Maybe their adventure would bring out a new interest in the past for Albus.

 _Finally, I’d have someone to talk about Binns’ class with_ , Scorpius thought, but when he approached he realized Albus wasn’t writing at all. He was sitting quite still, scratching lines into the parchment, drawing unpatterned connections between them with no rhyme or reason. He was tearing small holes into the parchment with his quill and had ripped at least ten barbs from the feather and they lay scattered around his knees.

“Albus?”

Albus gave a start and looked up at him, his eyes very wide and very green. Scorpius wondered instantly how Harry was doing, and found it funny as he always did that he associated Albus’ eyes with Harry, when everyone else seemed to have it the other way around. To Scorpius, that particular shade of green would always belong to his friend and no one else.

Scorpius cleared his throat when he realized he’d been staring too long and crouched down at Albus’ side, careful not to get the stray feather barbs on his uniform trousers.

“Hey, are you okay?” Scorpius asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you in class.”

Albus looked down at his parchment and the random markings he’d made.

“You didn’t. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s alright,” Scorpius assured him. “I can take it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Albus muttered. “I’m just tired is all. You know how I get when I’m tired.”

“Grumpy,” Scorpius supplied. “Cranky. Persnickety.”

“I get it,” Albus said.

“What were you drawing?” Scorpius asked.

“Nothing,” Albus mumbled. He balled up the parchment and tossed it toward the end of the aisle. It bounced off the rim of the rubbish bin and rolled away. Albus slumped back against the wall in defeat. “Sometimes I just doodle things. It helps clear my head.”

“That’s why I read,” Scorpius said. “You know, all those bad adventure novels? They take my mind off things and then when I stop I feel better. I’ve got some in my trunk, come to think of it. You’re welcome to borrow them if you want to…”

Scorpius trailed off, realizing that  Albus wasn’t really listening. He was in a far off place, staring  with unfocused eyes at the displaced ball of parchment. Scorpius watched him for a moment, looking at the still profile of his face. Albus did look tired, but there was something more going on. Scorpius thought back to when his mother had died last year and how Albus had done little things to take care of him. Albus had sat beside Scorpius in silence when he didn’t want to talk about anything, and his mother’s voice came to him as it often did when he was lost and confused.

‘Sometimes people try to help in the ways they know they like to be helped when they’re sad, or in the way people have tried to comfort them in the past,’ Astoria had said after Scorpius had asked her why Draco had brought her another piece of expensive jewelry when she hadn’t left the manor for weeks and had hardly been out of bed. While Scorpius had never seen Draco take any real comfort in expensive trinkets, he _had_ seen his grandparents try to cheer him up one bleak Christmas when Astoria was ill with a new racing broom, a fancy telescope and a trip to the Swiss Alps for when Astoria recovered. It was a trip they’d never taken.

Scorpius missed his mum terribly, and he wished she were here now so he could ask her what to do and how to help his friend. Everyone had told him the first of everything without her would be the hardest - the first birthdays, the first Christmas, the first time coming home from Hogwarts without her… but Scorpius was certain that staring down this, his second Christmas without his mum, was even harder. If he knew she’d be waiting at home to drink cocoa under the Christmas tree and console him between games of Exploding Snap, then enduring these trying weeks of nightmares and doubt might have been easier.

He looked at Albus, realizing he was being a bit selfish in dwelling on his own losses. He wracked his brain for a plan, but maybe Albus had already given him the blueprint for comforting a Potter - or at least some of it. Scorpius slid closer and leaned back against the wall next to Albus. He drew his latest adventure novel (this one centered on a Gringotts curse breaker in the Victorian Era) and began to read, sharing the silence with his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Albus always needs a hug and never knows how to ask for one.
> 
> Thanks again to [@slytherin629](https://slytherin629.tumblr.com/) for betaing and advice!
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr.](https://ijustwalkintomordor.tumblr.com/)


	3. A Bad Dream

The days grew shorter as November started to fade. With less light and without proper sleep, classes all bled together, and Albus found himself relying on Scorpius' organization to keep himself afloat and he hated himself for becoming a burden to his friend. He tried to keep from being a pain – surely Scorpius was stressed about school as well – but on the first night of December, Scorpius caught him red-handed as he tried to avoid interrupting his free time while they sat in a quiet corner of the Slytherin common room.

Albus had Scorpius' potions notebook halfway out of his messenger bag when Scorpius noticed and looked up from his novel.

"Did you need something?" Scorpius asked, looking over the top of the pages. The cover was worn down and the paperback spine was cracked in so many places that the title was barely readable. The cover featured Andre Terry – the protagonist of Scorpius' favorite adventure novels – holding a crystal wand in a cave of ice while his two sidekicks, Carlton and Jeanette looked on in awe.

It took Albus a second to muster the energy to speak.

"I just needed to copy your notes," Albus said. "Mine were a bit sloppy. And maybe take a tiny peek at your essay. I just need an idea of where to start."

Scorpius smiled at him and dog-eared his page (something Albus had  _ never _ seen him do with a hardback). He tossed the book aside and pulled the notebook out himself, flipping through the pages.

"Here," Scorpius said, handing it over. "I outlined an essay and then realized I didn't know enough about moonstones, but I think you do, right?"

"I mean, I know a bit…"

"Well, you can use this, then," Scorpius said. "I won't be needing it anyway. That should save you some time."

Albus looked down at the notebook and Scorpius' careful handwriting. It was a perfect, well-organized outline that looked like the beginning of an outstanding essay.

"I don't want to take your work," Albus said. "I just wanted to… you know, get a starting point."

"Nah, it's no big deal," Scorpius said, reclining back onto the couch.  

Albus watched as Scorpius went back to his book, looking perfectly calm and content. He was torn between wanting to hug his friend out of gratitude and never let go, and the urge to run away, lest he cause Scorpius any more trouble. 

"Do you have work to do?" Albus asked, confused. He was five assignments behind and was still struggling to get on top of things. Between the time he'd spent at home and his inability to sleep or concentrate, Albus was woefully unprepared going into Christmas break.

"I'm caught up," Scorpius said. "I've been doing homework through History of Magic during classes instead of taking notes."

Albus frowned at this, both because Scorpius  _ always  _ paid attention through even the most boring History of Magic lessons, and because he hadn't noticed.

"You love history," Albus said.

"Yes." Scorpius turned the page of his book idly. "But frankly there's not much else Binns is going to teach me about Byzantine wizards and the crimes of Manuel Philes. Dad keeps a collector's edition of his work in the library. It's far more thorough than our textbook. Did you know that his lesser-known research with Pachymeres influenced the early works of Nicholas Flamel?"

"No, I didn't," Albus grumbled, digging in his back for some parchment to begin his essay.

Scorpius talked about Philes' work, then segued into random facts about wizards in Constantinople and how they'd helped keep the city standing through the ages. Albus half-listened to him and began writing his essay. His eyelids were already starting to feel heavy as he'd spent most of the night catching up on Charms work and the rest tossing and turning in his bed. The distraction of Scorpius' chattering was both welcome and irritating. Albus found that he couldn't entirely focus on the task at hand, but something about the familiarity of Scorpius' voice calmed him and narrowed his vision. With Scorpius talking he could see what was actually in front of him. It took the flashes of green light and the screams of Albus' grandparents out of his periphery and grounded him safely in the common room.

Albus didn't make as much progress on the essay as he would have liked, but he knew he wouldn't have made any without Scorpius there to talk to and tell him stories. He was jealous of Scorpius' ability to be normal and, at the same time, felt guilty that there was no way he could repay Scorpius for the effect he was having. Albus settled for being selfishly and silently grateful and only retired to the dorm when he'd finished half the paper.

* * *

Albus stared up at the green velvet canopy of his bed,  plotting  every free moment of the next day to identify times to finish his potions essay before it was due. Breakfast wasn't optional – Albus couldn't think when he was hungry, although the nausea he endured after eating lately wasn't much better – but surely he could use lunch to work on it. There was also a long gap prior to Defense Against the Dark Arts, and surely Hagrid would let him sit off to the side during their dull Hippogriff observation today. It wasn't like Hagrid wasn't aware that Albus loved Hippogriffs. After all, he'd ridden Witherwings before he'd even come to Hogwarts…

Just as he was trying to convince himself that sleep was more important than  planning  out his day or even climbing out of bed and working on the essay now, Albus heard something.  At first he thought it was one of his roommates coming into the dorm late, but he quickly realized the shuffling wasn't footsteps. It was heavy fabric being moved about. Albus frowned and sat up, confused, until he heard a quiet whimpering.

"No. No please."

The voice was barely identifiable as Scorpius. It was raspy – a side effect of Scorpius' voice starting to change – but it was certainly his. Albus peeked out of his hangings and looked over at his friend's bed, but quickly found it pointless.

_ Stupid, _ Albus admonished himself.  _ Of course his hangings are drawn. _

Albus leaned against his headboard, hoping the noise would stop because it was so horrible. It reminded him of the most awful  sounds  he'd ever heard – his father shouting after a nightmare, Scorpius' screams under the Cruciatus Curse, and his grandparents’ last loud, pleading words. 

This sound was quiet. Scorpius’ voice was soft and muffled, but it still echoed in Albus' head in the moments of silence as he listened.

It didn't stop. After a minute or two, it got worse. Scorpius was pleading with someone and Albus tried to delude himself into thinking Scorpius was dreaming about homework gone wrong or begging for extra time with a book that was due in the library. When he started picking out bits of what Scorpius was saying, he heard  _ valor _ and  _ expecto patronum _ . He couldn’t pretend this was anything other than the worst kind of nightmare.

Albus shook his head hard, trying to get rid of the invasive  echoes  of his dad crying out as they watched the silhouette of Lily Potter crumple to the ground through the window. It was useless. The  memory  never went away. It was always there, just beneath the surface and in silent moments when it came forward, Albus wondered if he would ever be free of it. He doubted he deserved to be.

But he had to focus. Scorpius sounded like he was in pain, and Albus had been begging for an opportunity to be a good friend, hadn't he? Well, he hadn't wanted it like this, but he'd take what he could get.

He crossed the gap between their beds in a few quick strides and wrenched the hangings on Scorpius' bed open. It was worse than he would have expected. Scorpius was twisted in his sheets and a thin sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead. He was gripping at his pillow with one hand, grasping for something and Albus stared in stunned silence until he noticed Scorpius was searching for his wand.

Albus reached under the pillow and grasped the handle of Scorpius' new wand. He used it to cast a quick silencing spell around them to avoid waking up the other boys (Albus was certain their tentative truce didn't extend to loud noises at two o'clock in the morning) before grasping Scorpius' shoulder and shaking it.

"Scorpius, wake up." Albus meant for his voice to sound firm and commanding, but it came out like a helpless prayer.

Scorpius struggled against him, his eyes still shut tight. He grasped at Albus' hand, trying to pry it off. He pulled at Albus' fingers, bending two of them back until Albus was forced to shake him harder and he was jostled awake.

He let out a great yelp that made Albus jump back until he was kneeling on the bed. He folded his hands in his lap, anxious as Scorpius looked around wildly before his eyes settled on Albus, his chest heaving.

"Y-you were having a bad dream," Albus explained, rubbing his offended hand. "You were tossing and turning."

The explanation seemed to calm Scorpius. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and Albus listened to the room outside the curtains. It seemed quiet, so he was certain his silencing spell must have been enough.

"Right," Scorpius said. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of the bed hangings and looked at the fabric, surveying the velvet. It took Albus a moment to realize what he was doing.

"We're both in Slytherin," Albus assured him. "Everything is the same as it was before."

Scorpius looked at him and his face fell and Albus heard the error in his words. Everything  _ wasn't _ as it had been before, was it? Craig was dead and Albus had been responsible for nearly getting his best friend and members of his family murdered. He groaned and rubbed his face for a few seconds to avoid Scorpius' eyes.

"I'm sorry," Scorpius said. "I was so tired. I must've forgotten to cast  _ muffliato _ ."

"Forgotten?"

Albus looked up. Scorpius was twisting the sheets between his hands anxiously, biting at his lip.

"I've been having nightmares," Scorpius explained. Albus' heart sank again. "I didn't want to wake anyone, so I used it to make sure. It's been getting a little better, but… well, not enough clearly."

"You should have said something," Albus muttered, looking down at his lap. His instinct to reach out and hug his friend was strong, but Albus fought it back. He didn't want to make things worse for Scorpius, and that seemed to be all he was capable of.

"It'll stop eventually," Scorpius said with clearly-forced optimism. "It has to, right? It's just still a bit fresh."

"It is," Albus agreed. He sat in silence, and for the first time in a long time, silence with Scorpius felt awkward and unnatural. Albus couldn't remember the last time it wasn't companionable, even when Albus was being snippy and Scorpius was being annoying.

"I've been having nightmares too," Albus confessed, sliding over to the edge of the bed. He let his feet dangle down to brush the hardwood floor. "So if you want to talk about it, you um… you know where I live." He gestured lamely in the direction of his bed.

Scorpius nodded, but Albus felt it was out of courtesy. He shoved the hangings out of his way and stood up beside Scorpius' bed. It felt wrong to leave him there looking so pale and vulnerable, but there was no way Albus could do anything  _ but _ make things worse. After all, this was his fault and he was just a reminder.

˜

"I'll just let you get back to sleep," Albus said. He turned on his heel and headed back towards his bed.

Scorpius' weak reply nearly halted him as he fell back onto his mattress. "Oh, okay. Good night, Albus."

Something about the tone of his voice made Albus ache even more in a way he didn't understand, but Albus felt a heaviness holding him down. There was nothing he could do, and crawling back over to his friend's bed just so Scorpius wouldn't have to sleep alone didn't seem proper at all. They hadn't done that when they were younger, even during the worst of the bullying, and they were far too old to start now.

Still, as Albus curled up into the smallest ball possible he wished  _ he _ wasn’t alone either. He longed for his old stuffed dragon that Uncle Charlie had given him with its missing eye and heated belly, but he'd left it at home this year, sitting safely on his bed in the attic of the Potter home. For the briefest moment he felt relief at the idea of being in his own bed in a couple weeks, but remembered that McGonagall had revoked their Christmas at home privileges.

Summer felt unfathomably far away, and Albus reached for his wand and cast a quick  _ muffliato _ for himself before he broke down and sobbed into his pillow.

* * *

Scorpius listened as the heavy wrought-iron door to the Slytherin common room swung shut behind the last Slytherin to leave. Without any events at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday, most of the students had elected to go home. The only other Slytherins who had decided to stay at school were the Head Boy and his sixth year prefect girlfriend, and Scorpius suspected he would only see them emerge once or twice over the course of the holiday.

It seemed strange, seeing the common room both decorated for Christmas and empty. The last three years Scorpius had gone home for the holidays and had only seen the garland and tree set up during finals when the area was packed with Slytherins studying and panicking together for mid-year exams with intermittent holiday celebration in-between.

Last year he'd avoided it at all costs. Being around people whose sole concern was exams and what to get their families for Christmas was infuriating and depressing and had left him with an overwhelming longing. He'd missed his mother even more over the holidays – more than he had right after her passing when he'd get a good mark and think about how happy she'd be when he told her, only to remember a moment later that he'd never tell her anything again.

Instead, Scorpius had spent a great deal of December in the courtyard closest to the forest where he could listen to the wind and the birds. Albus joined him as much as he could and had even plucked up the fortitude to ask Rose to cast a warming charm over a pair of blankets for them, since he was afraid to do it himself. Albus hadn't quite mastered it back then and was prone to setting things on fire.

Now, Scorpius looked across the room at his friend. Albus was seated on the floor next to the fireplace with a heavy book of potions in his lap. Under normal circumstances, Scorpius would have been fully onboard with Albus' newfound love of potions, but he looked so pale and miserable that Scorpius knew he couldn't possibly be enjoying himself.

"You can stop studying now," Scorpius reminded him. "Exams are over, after all."

"What else is there to do?" Albus mumbled.

"Lots of things!" Scorpius bounced from his seat over toward Albus, who gave him an apprehensive look. "We could go outside and play in the snow and visit Hagrid for tea. We could go look for the Room of Requirement again – that's always fun! We could go pick out some fun reading for Christmas break."

"Fun reading?"

"You know, stories instead of textbooks." Scorpius nudged him with the toe of his Oxfords. "Come on. Let's have some fun!"

"You go on without me," Albus muttered. "I don't think I'll be much fun anyway. I'll just ruin your day."

"Al-bus," Scorpius whined. "Come  _ on _ . It won't be any fun being stuck here with my best mate if he's being a drag, will it?"

"Well then maybe you should find a new best mate," Albus snapped. He popped up onto his feet so quickly that Scorpius stepped back, dumbfounded. Albus didn't look like he had that much energy, but his scowl said it was coming from anger instead of excitement for the end of classes. Scorpius couldn't place what he could be angry about. Albus usually loved the freedom that came with classes ending.

"Since I'm such a drag and all," Albus continued when Scorpius stared. "I know I'm not the fun Potter. It's not a secret. Besides, all I do is get you into trouble."

"That's not true," Scorpius stammered. He knew Albus had been a bit blue, but he chalked that up to the few nightmares he'd admitted to and stress from classes. "I happen to think you're lots of fun when you're not yelling at me."

"I'm not yelling!"

"Yes, you are!"

Scorpius stared into his friend's face as his cheeks and ears began to go red with irritation, searching for some clue as to how he could help. He thought back to that day in the library when he'd sat with Albus in silence, but Albus wasn't giving him any hints this time.

"Al, I didn't mean anything. You know that," Scorpius said in a slow, calm manner that reminded him of his father. "I just wanted you to cheer up a bit. You looked miserable."

Albus rubbed his face aggressively with his free hand. Scorpius wanted him to stop before he scratched himself.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. I'm just…" Albus paused and looked at Scorpius, but not  _ at _ Scorpius. His eyes were unfocused and he had a faraway look in his eyes. The normally bright green of his irises seemed dull, and Scorpius realized they had for a long time.

"It's okay," Scorpius said quickly. He had to do  _ something _ , but he didn't think Albus would be open to a hug. Scorpius settled for laying a hand on Albus' shoulder, but found that even the smallest touch was too much. Albus recoiled and Scorpius' shoulders slumped in defeat. "Al?"

Albus backed away from him, shaking his head. His messier-than-usual hair fell into his eyes and he clutched the potions book to his chest. Scorpius' hands fell limply at his sides.

"I'm just going to go read in the dorm," Albus said. "Alone."

Scorpius watched as Albus turned and walked away from him, at a loss. Albus was known to be moody and prickly, but this wasn't just him being hurtful for the sake of being hurtful. Something was  _ wrong _ , and no matter how often Scorpius asked Albus what was bothering him, he never received an answer.

He couldn't follow, but he couldn't go anywhere else, either. Scorpius sank down into his favorite armchair near the fire and curled up into it, letting the soft black leather swallow him up as he stared into the flames. After coming back from the dark timeline and helping to defeat Delphi, Scorpius didn't think he would ever feel useless and inadequate again, but here he was, alone in the Slytherin common room on the first day of the holiday break without any roadmap to help his friend.

* * *

Albus' apology at dinner was sincere, but wasn't accompanied by a change in  energy . After a day without the distraction of classes, Scorpius too began to feel the weight of the last week of tests, the last months of anxiety and adventure, and the last year of loss creep up on him like the shadows that grew across the grounds when the sun set behind the forest. It felt like the same kind of darkness, too – a subdued, chilly feeling that took all his energy and left him lying on the common room couch while Albus relegated himself to the floor. Scorpius reread his favorite book so he wouldn't have to feel guilty about not doing anything productive. He flipped through the pages and took in few of their words, and instead found himself lounging listless for days on end as the calendar crept closer to Christmas.

The moments of lethargy were broken by rare, brief bouts of  energy  in which Scorpius rearranged his wardrobe, cleaned under his bed, organized all his class notes by date and then reorganized them again by subject and implemented a color-coding system using stickers depicting Quidditch players from the different teams of Britain. The set was offered up by Albus who seemed somewhat eager to assist in some way, though Scorpius suspected he was more eager to rid himself of the stickers.

When Scorpius finished all of these things, he rearranged Albus' wardrobe as well while his friend watched in silence from the foot of his bed. Then he set about straightening Albus' trunk and fixing up his Transfiguration notes, which Albus allowed and even seemed to appreciate.

At night, Scorpius would collapse into bed, exhausted from the whiplash he would give himself as he alternated between fatigue and mild-mania that reminded him far too much of his mother's rare bouts of wellness. He remembered her trying to do  _ everything  _ she could while she was able, and that thought as he fell asleep always led him to nightmares and hours spent awake, staring at the dark, shifting water of the lake outside and missing her more than he ever thought possible.

* * *

Dinners were quiet affairs. They sat alone at their end of the Slytherin table while the few remaining students and faculty gathered at the Ravenclaw table to laugh and talk with a freedom not available during the term.

Albus felt guilty as he bit into a dinner roll. Not only was his forever-detention likely messing up his family's holiday, he was clearly ruining Scorpius' as well. Albus couldn't bring himself to do much more than read and nap and occasionally play a half-hearted game of chess against his sole companion, and it was clearly having an effect. Scorpius' hair was limp and his skin was even more pale than normal as he pushed a few peas around on his plate. He was slumped over, collapsing in on himself like a dying star, and Albus was wholly to blame.

He opened his mouth to speak but found himself coming up short as he always did. He had nothing to say. Where there were normally thoughts formed with words buzzing around in his head he had only muted feelings that evaded description, and it left him unable to make conversation.

Instead, Albus did the only thing he knew to do. He topped off Scorpius' glass of pumpkin juice and reached across the table to retrieve a cauldron cake and a licorice wand. He placed them on Scorpius' plate, settling them carefully on the edge, since he knew Scorpius hated it when different parts of his meal collided.

Scorpius gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Albus."

Albus could only nod. Something in his periphery demanded his attention, and Albus looked up to see Professor McGonagall looking at him from beneath her hat. Scorpius had already gone back to eating and didn't notice, and Albus was thankful. He didn't want Scorpius to be reminded of the scrutiny he'd brought on them.

Albus ducked his head down, trying to evade McGonagall's  gaze , though he knew it was useless. She saw and knew everything that happened at Hogwarts, it seemed, and had been paying especially close attention to them during lessons since October.

Still, as Albus forced down a few more bites of bread and a bit of chicken, he could feel her watching him and wished he could crawl under the table and away from her  watchful eye .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [@Slytherin629](https://slytherin629.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!
> 
> [Tumblr.](https://ijustwalkintomordor.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The next chapter should be the last one, and I'm hoping to get it to you before Christmas!


	4. Christmas Isn't Cancelled

_December 24_

_Ginny and Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_I know I said Christmas was cancelled for both Albus and Scorpius. With all of the other students gone for the holiday I have been seeing them more at meals and around the castle, and I do think both boys could benefit from some time with their families._

_I am not sure if you and Harry made plans to travel with James and Lily, but if you are still in town, I think you should come and retrieve Albus at your earliest convenience. I am writing to Draco telling him to do the same with Scorpius._

_We can speak more when you arrive. I will be in my office most of the day._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

* * *

"Harry? Hey, Harry!"

Ginny called to her husband, who had disappeared into the kitchen. She was standing by the living room window with the Hogwarts owl on her shoulder. She couldn’t fathom sending it out again, so Ginny resolved to let it take refuge from the cold. Nearby, Lily was stretched out beneath the Christmas tree, coloring in the very detailed Gryffindor shield poster Ron had sent as an early Christmas present. The lion on the page kept moving, and Lily was forced to chase it around the page to color in its mane.

"Hold on!" Harry yelled back. "I'm almost done with the cocoa."

"You and your damn cocoa," Ginny grumbled. Lily laughed at her as she walked by, grabbing a discarded piece of biscuit from a plate on the end table and feeding it to the grateful owl.

"Harry, a letter about Al from McGonagall just came," Ginny said, stepping into the kitchen. Harry looked up at her, alarmed as he stirred cocoa and sugar into the heated saucepan of milk.

"Is he okay?" Harry sounded worried, and Ginny could understand why. While Minerva had written to them about James on several occasions, her correspondence had mostly centered on achievements and minor infractions. With Albus, she'd only ever written about his withdrawn attitude and, later, his disappearance.

"He's fine, I think," Ginny said. She handed him the letter and Harry cast a quick charm on the spoon, leaving it to stir the pot while he read.

Ginny watched his worried eyes dart across the page. It always got to her at Christmas – how much she loved her family and now her future nearly looked very different. This year more than ever she was aware of the delicate balance around her and how one small change in her past could have altered everything. As Harry read, she reached out and pushed some of his hair back from his face and smiled when he instinctively leaned into her hand as it brushed along his jaw.

"That doesn't sound good," Harry said.

Ginny shook her head. "No, it doesn't."

Harry lowered the parchment and looked at her. His face had fallen into a miserable expression She knew that look.

"No," Ginny said, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. She could feel the tension there and she rubbed along his neck gently. "We don't even know what's wrong yet and you're already trying to blame yourself, aren't you?"

Harry sighed and turned around, extinguishing the flame on the stove with a wave of his wand.

"I should have paid attention," Harry lamented. "He never should have even been in a situation where he thought stealing a time turner was a good idea. If I was better to him, he would have talked to me instead of…"

Harry made a wide gesture to indicate the scope of the situation. Ginny sighed.

"Al is stubborn," she said. "He gets it from both parents. He wanted to do something drastic and he did."

"Couldn't he have taken the usual routes of teenage rebellion?" Harry asked, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs for Lily and James. "Sneaking firewhisky into the dorm, going into the Forbidden Forest, risky sex in the Astronomy Tower – those are all good options."

"You forgot starting a secret club to supplement a class."

"Another good choice! But no, he has to steal a bloody time turner and fraternize with Voldemort's daughter."

Harry exchanged a kind smile with her, and Ginny was grateful once again for her husband's ability to find humor in most situations. He'd been open with her about dealing with the events of Godric's Hollow – waking her up in the middle of the night when he had nightmares, telling her when he needed things to be quiet, and talking through the events ad nauseam all seemed to help, and Ginny was happy to oblige. It wasn't unlike the weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts when he'd find her sitting silent in the Burrow's living room at two o'clock in the morning and would join her until she could sleep again.

"I hope he's alright," Harry said. "Maybe McGonagall is just taking pity on them? She knew we were scheduled to visit on Boxing Day anyway."

"That might be wishful thinking. This _is_ McGonagall we're talking about."

James appeared at the doorway with Lily on his heels. "What about McGonagall?"

Ginny met Harry's eyes for the briefest moment before looking back to her two children, still dressed in their most comfortable pajamas. They were both smiling and happy to be home, but without Albus something was missing. Whether or not something was wrong, Ginny was selfishly glad that he could come home.

"She just wrote to us," she told them as Harry handed them each a mug of hot chocolate. "Albus is going to come home for the holiday."

Lily gave a little jump that threatened to splash her drink down her front. "Yay! And he can have his presents? Even the big one?"

"Of course," Ginny said.

James smiled and Ginny hoped it was genuine. She knew her sons had been at odds in the past and more than anything she wanted them to be at-ease around one another.

"No teasing him, James," Harry said. Ginny sometimes wondered if he could read her mind.

James looked a bit deflated. "But it's so easy."

" _No teasing_ ," Harry repeated. "What you think is teasing can sometimes be a bit cruel to others, I think. Just because you don't mind being on the receiving end of it doesn't mean that others don't. And he's had a rough go of it lately."

James thought about that for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Okay."

"Excellent," Harry said, clapping his hands together. "Well, then. Should I go and collect him?"

Ginny nodded. "I'll go freshen up his bedroom while you do."

As always, Harry hugged everyone goodbye before parting company, even though it would be very brief. Ginny leaned into him, and he held her for a beat longer than he used to – something that had started a couple months ago, right after Halloween. Ginny squeezed him back and kissed his cheek.

"Love you," she whispered.

"Love you, too."

* * *

Harry loved Minerva McGonagall, and the angry words he’d shouted at her during Albus’ time turner adventure haunted him every day. Each of the few times he'd seen her since had been somewhat tense, and Harry had taken great pains to casually mention how much he appreciated her. It hadn't been enough.

So before he Floo'd to Hogwarts, he'd apparated to Diagon Alley where he'd picked up a gift basket of Scottish tea and biscuits – the kind he distinctly remembered sitting on her desk each time he'd been in her office as a teenager.

He stumbled into the headmaster's office and felt the same sense of disorientation he’d experienced since McGonagall became headmistress. The desk was the same as it had been for two hundred years, but it had all of her things on it. The pensive closet was locked, and the items in glass cases were well-organized and clean. The familiar smell of lemon and mahogany lingered in the air, but it was now mixed with honeysuckle and lavender.

It was so similar to the way Dumbledore had kept it, but the little differences, coupled with the sudden appearance of Draco Malfoy, jarred Harry back into the present.

"Potter," Draco said. His voice had lost the bitter edge it had when they were children.

"Malfoy."

"You've got soot on your shoes," Draco commented. Harry looked down. He tried to kick the marks off to no avail.

Draco inspected Harry’s shoes further and rolled his eyes. "I was wrong. It's not soot. Your shoes are just filthy."

"I had to wade through a moor yesterday," Harry sighed. "Chasing an illegal potions dealer."

"Oh, the trials of a Ministry man," Draco drawled in disapproval.

Harry looked up at Draco, trying to place what was off about him. He hadn't cut his long, loose hair and he hadn't lost the goatee. Harry frowned for a minute, because now not only was the office that was formerly Dumbledore's just a tiny bit _off_ , Draco was too, and Draco could always be relied upon to be aristocratic, sarcastic, and perfectly dressed –

 _That_ was it, Harry realized. Instead of wearing stuffy robes that looked like they'd been tailored that very morning, Draco was wearing a pair of trousers and a charcoal jumper.

"Is this your new casual look?"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "I'll have you know, Potter, that I came straight here when I got McGonagall's letter. I didn't stop to change."

"You lounge around the manor like that?"

Draco looked down at his shiny black shoes and perfectly-pressed trousers. "Well, yes."

Harry sighed, grateful that he'd changed from the rather worn down Chudley Cannons joggers he'd been wearing earlier.

"Where _is_ McGonagall?" Harry asked, stepping into the center of the room and looking around.

"She went to retrieve the boys," Draco said. "I told her that if you or Ginny weren't able to come straight away that I'd deliver Albus myself."

"Do you have any idea what's going on?"

Draco shook his head. "Not really. Scorpius has been writing a bit and it sounds like he's been unhappy, and McGonagall only told me that the boys had looked miserable and she realized it was wrong to keep them from their families."

"Unhappy?"

Draco wasn't given the opportunity to respond. The sound of moving stone interrupted him, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see that the staircase that led up to the office had begun twisting. A moment later, McGonagall appeared with both Scorpius and Albus in tow.

"Ah, Harry. I'm glad you made it."

Harry wasn't looking at her. His eyes were locked on the boys. Scorpius was wearing an oversized jumper and had the sleeves pulled down around his hands, the fabric twisted around his fingers. His shoulders were hunched as he looked up at Draco and offered a weak wave.

Albus was at his side, wearing his oldest jeans and a black sweater that made him look terribly pale and the freckles across his nose stood out in sharp contrast. There was a deep discontent on his face as he looked up at Harry, both arms wrapped tight around his lumpy rucksack – the one that used to belong to James before he opted for his Gryffindor Quidditch team bag for everything.

"Hello, Scorpius," Draco said. Scorpius approached his father and Draco wrapped his arm around Scorpius' shoulder, pulling him close. Harry wanted to do the same to Albus – he hadn't seen his son in weeks and after everything in Godric's Hollow, he wanted nothing more than to have Albus safe and at home for a little while.

"Albus?" Harry said, uncertain. Albus looked to Scorpius, his eyes lost and searching as Scorpius leaned into his father's side, his eyes closed as Draco took his leather duffle bag.

"Hi, Dad." Albus' voice was very small and nearly disappeared under a howl of winter wind outside.

Finally, McGonagall cleared her throat. "I think you boys have earned some time at home with your families," she said. "Especially since so few of your fellow students have stayed for the holidays."

Scorpius smiled at Draco's side, but Albus just looked up at Harry with an expression Harry didn't understand. Albus didn't look happy at all. Did he want to stay at Hogwarts instead of coming home? If he asked for that, Harry didn't know what he'd tell Ginny when he got home. She'd be both furious and hurt, and Harry would hate to see her sad at Christmas, especially this year…

To his surprise and great relief, Albus walked forward. Harry was quick to draw him in, letting Albus press himself against his shoulder, and Harry had to restrain himself from hugging his son tight and kissing the top of his head.

"Well, I suppose we should get going, then," Draco said. "I'm sure Scorpius is eager to get home."

"I don't… I wasn't able to get you anything for Christmas," Scorpius said.

Draco chuckled, and Harry realized this was the first time in his life that he'd ever seen Draco Malfoy this at-ease in the decades that they'd known one another.

"Never mind that, Scorpius," Draco said. "Having you home is enough."

Harry looked down at Albus and saw only a mass of black hair. Albus had turned his face into Harry's shoulder and didn't seem inclined at all to look back around. Harry frowned and tightened his arm around his son's slight shoulders (though they weren't as slight as they used to be. Harry could have sworn Albus had grown even in the last few weeks since they'd last been together).

"Al? You do want to come home, right?"

Albus shrugged, and then nodded, but said nothing. At a loss, Harry looked up to McGonagall, who held out her hands, indicating that she had nothing to offer in aid. It was clear that the boys were miserable, but McGonagall didn’t know what to do to help.

"Alright. Let's get going, then?"

Albus nodded and stood up, drawing back from Harry. Draco met Harry's eyes before looking between their sons in concern. Scorpius and Albus were both fidgeting, looking miserable.

Scorpius spoke first. "I'll see you when we get back?"

"I guess so," Albus said. He took a half-step forward, as if he wanted to do something but thought better of it. He stopped short, and Harry saw his shoulders drop. For a moment, he just stood there before looking up. It was the first good look Harry had gotten of his face, and now he saw the deep dark circles under his eyes and the redness around his irises. Harry's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"You need some sleep."

"I didn't get anyone presents for Christmas," Albus said. "I need to go shopping."

"It's Christmas Eve," Harry reminded him. "Diagon Alley will be a zoo. Why don't you get us New Year's presents instead? We can go in a few days – just me and you."

Albus didn't look like he felt this was an ideal solution, but he nodded in agreement anyway.

"Right, then," Draco said, accepting a bowl of Floo powder from McGonagall. Both he and Scorpius scooped up a handful, headed towards the fireplace and stepped in.

"Bye," Scorpius said, offering a small wave to Albus. Harry didn't think Albus looked like he had the energy to wave back, and he just nodded to his friend, looking quite forlorn. Harry was pretty sure he'd looked that miserable in this very office on multiple occasions.

"Have a Happy Christmas, Malfoys," McGonagall said. Draco smiled and nodded, and a second later threw down the Floo powder and they were gone in a swirl of green flames.

"Shall we?" Harry asked. Albus shrugged again as he grabbed some of the powder. Harry guessed that was the best he was going to get.

* * *

Albus was captured by his mother immediately upon entering the house. He was forced into the kitchen, where she shoved a mug of hot cocoa into his hands, kissed the top of his head and his cheek for the fifth time, and began searching the pantry for biscuits. Albus shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with all the undeserved affection.

“Mum, I don’t need anything. Really,” Albus protested, sipping his cocoa. It was warm and sweet with little marshmallows floating on the surface. He hated it.

“Nonsense,” Ginny said. “You look like you haven’t eaten for days. You _are_ going to meals, right?”

Albus nodded, setting his mug down on the table. “I am. I’ve just been…” Albus searched for the answer that would worry her the least. “Busy.”

Ginny frowned at him and placed an open tin of biscuits in front of him. Albus looked down at them, smelling the sugar even at a distance. He looked up at his mother, inquisitive.

“I’ve lifted the sugar ban for the holidays,” Ginny explained. “Even your dad agreed.”

“Oh,” was all Albus could say.

“Your brother and sister had already agreed to go play Quidditch with your cousins at The Burrow. Did you want to go join them?”

Albus shook his head quickly. “No, I want to stay here.”

Ginny smiled at him and ruffled his hair. It was a warm, caring gesture that Albus knew should have been comforting but instead, it made his eyes burn. He had to look down.

“Are you okay, love?” Ginny asked. She pulled out the chair next to him and the noise it made as it scraped across the ceramic tile sliced through Albus’ head like a knife. He winced as she sat down and gripped his mug to have something to hold onto. He did not drink.

“Fine,” Albus said. “I’m fine.”

Harry spoke from the doorway. “McGonagall seemed to think something was wrong.”

Albus shook his head, watching the marshmallows soften in his cocoa. They coalesced around the edges, clinging to one another. For some reason, it made him miss Scorpius. He glanced at his watch. It hadn’t even been a half hour since they’d left Hogwarts.

“I’m fine,” Albus said. “Just been busy with school and all.”

“Have you taken on any clubs?” Ginny asked. Albus sighed, remembering the way she’d urged him to join some groups and make new friends - not to replace his best friend, she’d emphasized when Albus had protested - but to simply get to know more people.

“No.”

“Classes have been difficult?” Harry asked.

Albus shrugged. “A bit. I got behind on my work.”

Albus could feel his mother staring at him, watching. In his periphery, he could see her red hair and concerned eyes. He felt her hand come to rest on his shoulder and he winced. He didn’t need to see to know his parents were exchanging worried glances. He expected her to pressure him - to demand he tell them what was wrong even though Albus knew nothing _was_ wrong. Thanks to Scorpius his grades were stable and everyone cut them a wide berth in light of the mysterious _Daily Prophet_ articles at the beginning of November. There hadn’t been any trouble and he still had his best friend. Nothing was wrong.

Ginny surprised him as she always did. Instead of pressuring him, she simply rubbed his shoulder until Albus looked up at her. He found her still smiling at him - still inexplicably pleased with his presence.

“I’m very glad you’re home,” Ginny said. “It wasn’t the same without you, Albus.”

“Me too,” Harry said. Albus looked up at his father, who was looking at him with the same kind, welcoming smile. It was the one the press and the Ministry never saw (save for Aunt Hermione). This wasn’t Harry Potter - the Legend. It was Harry Potter who told bad jokes and hugged everyone far too tightly when he drank too much with Uncle Ron. This was Harry, Albus’ dad who was happy to have him home and to have his entire family under one roof for Christmas, and it tore at something in Albus’ stomach because he _knew_ Harry was thinking about his parents. He had to be, after what he’d seen, and what he’d seen had been Albus’ fault.

Albus had to look down at the table. He had to. He mumbled something he hoped sounded like “happy to be home,” and “sorry I don’t have presents,” and gripped the knees of his jeans until his knuckles went white. He held on, making small talk until Ginny asked if he was tired, and when Albus said that he was, she took him upstairs to the attic bedroom he’d begged for until they’d given it to him on his tenth birthday.

“I changed the sheets while your father picked you up,” Ginny said as she opened the door. “I cleaned up a bit, too - just so it wouldn’t be dusty.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Albus said, feeling uneasy that she’d wasted time on him when there were more important and festive things to do.

“Yes, I did.”

Albus could only nod. He felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at the bed. There, sitting centered among his pillows, was Norbert, the stuffed dragon Uncle Charlie had given him years ago.

“I thought about sewing his eye back on,” Ginny said, following Albus’ gaze. “It’s been so long that I don’t know where it is, though.”

“It’s fine,” Albus all but whispered. “He’s been like that for so long that it would be weird anyway.”

A heavy silence hung in the air, and Albus knew he was being observed again. He was paralyzed by exhaustion - unable to do anything to convince his mother he was okay, but equally unable to find words to describe what he was feeling. It defied explanation and Albus couldn’t think. He couldn’t question or make sense of anything, not even when Professor McGonagall had appeared in the Slytherin common room to tell him and Scorpius that their fathers were here to collect them.

“Your dad and I know something’s bothering you,” Ginny said. “And I’m sure whatever it is, it has to do with what happened earlier this semester.”

Albus said nothing, feeling helpless and transparent. He wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, and wanted nothing more than to climb into his warm, fresh bed where the heavy opaque blankets could shield him.

“I’m not going to beat it out of you,” Ginny said. “Neither is anyone else. I just want you to know that both your dad and I are very, very glad to have you home and when you want to talk, we’ll be here to listen.”

Albus nodded and let his mother pull him into a loose embrace. She kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair down, smiling fondly when it simply bounced back up into its previous arrangement.

“I love you, darling,” Ginny said. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you later.”

Ginny left him and Albus felt heavier than ever. Not only had his mother spent part of her morning preparing for him to arrive, he’d taken part of Harry’s day and would now be a dark reminder of everything that had happened over the last few months. Albus was effectively there to ruin Christmas, and he wanted very much to disappear.

“I wonder where the cloak is,” Albus murmured to himself, but he knew it would be no use. James had the cloak again, and it was likely locked in his trunk at Hogwarts or well-hidden in his bedroom. Albus shook his head and crossed the room where he collapsed onto his bed. It smelled like home and cinnamon, and he buried his face in the pillows, drawing Norbert down and into his arms. He could feel the heat from Norbert’s charmed belly instantly - one of his parents must have refreshed the charm earlier - and it both seared and comforted him.

Too beaten to climb under the covers, Albus grabbed the edge of his patchwork quilt and pulled it up to cocoon himself in the blankets. It was a cocoon he didn’t deserve, but he couldn’t bring himself to be grateful or to hate it as he fell into a fitful nap where he dreamed of dragon fire and Dark Marks.

* * *

Harry knew Albus had always liked Christmas Eves spent at home far more than the busy, loud Christmases spent in the energy of The Burrow. While James and Lily couldn’t wait to go see their cousins and get presents from their grandparents, Albus had loved spending Christmas Eve in his pajamas, watching movies and eating pizza with just his nuclear family (with the occasional appearance of a Granger-Weasley).

Harry had already owled ahead to tell Ron and Hermione that the Potters needed an evening in alone, and he used the assurance of it just being the five of them to dive into cooking while Albus napped and Lily and James flew in laps around the house, chasing one another.

He made the dough from scratch. His mother-in-law had sent over the herbs and tomatoes, and he’d apparated into town to grab some fresh cheese from the farmer’s market. Harry was just pulling the trays of individual pizzas out of the oven when he heard a small noise behind him and jumped, setting them down with a clatter on the stovetop.

“Albus! You startled me!”

Albus looked equally as startled with one hand in the refrigerator, his eyes wide.

“I just needed some water.”

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Harry said, now smiling. Albus didn’t look much happier, but at least his eyes were clearer and he seemed to have brushed his hair. “Excellent! I _just_ took dinner out of the oven.”

Albus took a long drink from a water bottle, draining half of it in only a few seconds. Lily and James rushed past the window, shrieking at one another from atop their brooms, startling Albus.

“They’ve been at it for hours,” Harry explained. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear them.”

“I didn’t,” Albus confirmed. “At all. I guess I was tired.”

“You looked it,” Harry said. He sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for Albus to do the same. He hesitated, and then compiled, sinking into the chair farthest from Harry, taking another long drink from his water bottle.

“Albus, are you feeling well?”

“I haven’t been sick for ages,” Albus assured him.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Harry said. Albus visibly tensed across the table from him and folded his arms, tucking his hands in at his sides.

“I’m fine,” Albus said. “It’s just been a tough term is all. And I wasn’t expecting to come home today.”

“Are you glad you’re home?” Harry asked. “Would you have rather stayed? I know your mum might feel differently, but I think Christmases at Hogwarts can be quite fun.”

“It’s fine,” Albus said, his voice growing strained.

Harry sighed and looked down at the table for a moment, at a loss. Of course it had been a hard term. Albus’ experience had been quite stressful through the first of November, what with taking the weight of the world upon his shoulders, seeing death for the first time, and witnessing the death of his long-dead grandparents.

“Have the other students been giving you a hard time?” Harry asked.

“Not as much as I thought they would,” Albus murmured. “I think my cousins might have issued some general threats.”

Harry chuckled. “Yes, that sounds like them.”

“Scorpius gets the worst of it,” Albus said. “‘Son of Voldemort’ and all.”

Harry’s heart sank. He’d been telling the press for ages that there was no evidence or basis to the rumors that Scorpius Malfoy was anything but Draco’s son, and frankly he thought it was ridiculous that anyone thought otherwise. Scorpius looked as much like Draco as Albus looked like Harry.

“I was afraid of that,” Harry said. “I keep telling them -”

“I know,” Albus interrupted. “No one listens.”

Albus fell silent. He was looking in Harry’s direction but was not looking _at_ him. His eyes were unfocused and dazed as he looked at the wall, unmoving.

“Albus, I know you saw some pretty jarring things. I know you might not want to talk about it yet, but when you’re ready, I hope you’ll talk to me or your mum.”

“I’m fine,” Albus said. Harry wondered if he’d looked as not-fine when he’d told the same lie to Ron and Hermione over and over again during their Hogwarts years.

Harry weighed the risk of calling Albus out on it - maybe making him mad would get him to at least put words to what was bothering him - when his opportunity was cut short. James and Lily swept into the room, bringing some snow and mud with them. Ginny was on their heels, trying to scourgify their shoes and the bottoms of their jeans as they ripped off their coats.

“Albus!” Lily yelled. Harry watched as she launched herself at Albus, wrapping him in a tight hug that, if Albus’ wince was any indication, was a bit unwelcome.

“Hi, Lily.” Albus’ voice was muffled by his sister’s shoulder. James, who towered over them, bent down and wrapped his arms around them both, crushing them all into one tight, group hug.

“It’s good to have you here, little snake,” James teased. Lily’s gleeful laugh covered up Albus’ lack of amusement. Harry watched Albus shift uncomfortably in his siblings’ embrace and he knew his son was being crushed by more than just his brother and sister’s affection and Harry felt, for the moment, powerless to help him.

* * *

“One more game?”

Draco sighed. “Scorpius -”

“Come on. Just one more?”

On the sitting room mantle, the clock chimed. Draco leaned around Scorpius to look at it and sighed again.

“It’s midnight.”

“Is it? Happy Christmas, then!” Scorpius said. His tone was gleeful but his drooping eyelids gave him away. Draco folded his arms across his jumper and quirked an eyebrow at his son.

“You’re falling asleep,” Draco said.

“I am not.”

The great yawn that followed Scorpius’ defense did nothing to convince Draco of his honesty. He stared at Scorpius while he covered his mouth, then received a sheepish look from his son.

“Maybe a bit,” Scorpius conceded.

“Why don’t we go to sleep and we can play our…” Draco paused to think back on the last few hours, “sixth game of chess in the morning.”

“Or we could play it now,” Scorpius said, as if this were clearly the better choice.

“Is something troubling you?” Draco asked. Of course, he’d asked over tea immediately upon getting Scorpius home from Hogwarts, and Scorpius had told him that the term had been difficult since he and Albus had gotten so far behind on their school work. He’d waved off any inquiries about how other students had treated them in light of the rumors the _Daily Prophet_ seemed to be circulating and told Draco he’d learned to ignore such things. Scorpius had admitted to being a bit blue in his letters, and his reasons hadn’t been outlandish - he was struggling a bit in potions and he sometimes made himself sad remembering Godric’s Hollow and his time spent in the Dark Lord’s alternate reality. He’d seemed to be getting better, at least on paper, and Draco had always trusted that Scorpius was honest in his letters. Maybe he’d been wrong…

“Not really,” Scorpius said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I just… have trouble sleeping sometimes.”

Draco folded his hands on the table, leaning forward to look at Scorpius. He hoped it made him look concerned instead of overbearing and demanding.

“Why?”

“I have nightmares sometimes,” Scorpius said. “I mean, I’ve always had nightmares. You know that.”

He did. Until Scorpius was six, Astoria and Draco had woken more mornings with Scorpius wedged between them than they had alone. Draco remembered one particularly bad spell when Scorpius wouldn’t wake himself up and would simply scream in his sleep until Draco woke him and carried him to their bed.

“I do,” Draco said. “Go on.”

“Well, sometimes I have dreams about… well, Albus and I have been calling it ‘the darkest timeline.’ I don’t know what else to call it,” Scorpius said. “And sometimes I wake up and I’m not sure if things are back to normal or not.”

Draco took in a slow breath, remembering the weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts when his nightmares centered on those few moments when he’d been sure Voldemort had won. It had gotten bad enough that he’d taped a note to his own headboard that said _It was a dream. The Dark Lord is dead._

“That must be difficult,” Draco said. Sometimes he wanted to tell Scorpius more about his past than he had before, but now didn’t seem to be the time.

“I normally just check and see that Albus is there,” Scorpius said. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll think it’s creepy that I check on him when he’s sleeping…”

“I think Albus would understand. I’m sure your little…” Draco paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully,  “adventure had an impact on him too.”

“It did. Albus hasn’t really been himself,” Scorpius confessed. Draco had noticed that Albus looked particularly unhappy when he’d been at Hogwarts earlier in the day, but Draco hadn’t paid much attention to it in his excitement to be retrieving his son.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked.

Scorpius squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not sure how to describe it. He’s quiet and he gets irritated easily. I mean, he always does, but it’s been worse and I know he’s miserable. I think it’s my fault.”

“Tell me, how is it your fault?”

“I don’t know,” Scorpius murmured. “I didn’t stop him, did I?”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever stopped a Potter from doing something when they set their minds to it,” Draco said. “His father set his mind to killing the Dark Lord, and so he did. Albus is a lot like him. I don’t think there was anything you could have done to stop him.”

“I was really awful in that other world, Dad,” Scorpius said, looking up at him from under his pale eyelashes. “Maybe some of that’s in me.”

“Why do I think you haven’t told me everything?” Draco asked. “You told me what happened and how you got out… but you haven’t told me much about what life was like there.”

“It’s a long story,” Scorpius said.

Draco looked up at the clock. Five minutes after midnight. He smiled back at his son in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. Astoria had been much better at this, but he hoped he’d learned from her and that their son would trust him.

“I’ve got time,” he said.

Scorpius sat up a little straighter. He folded his hands atop the table, mimicking Draco’s posture. As he began to talk, Draco said a silent ‘thank you’ to his late wife for teaching him some measure of kindness and understanding in their brief time together, and settled in to listen to their son’s tale.

* * *

  
Christmas Eve had turned into Christmas morning in a flurry of chatter and laughter that Albus made a half-hearted attempt at participating in. James and Lily were so happy and relaxed now that they were away from school that they scarcely noticed that Albus was just going through the motions. In between turns, James would look away from their game of chess to chat with their mum and wouldn’t notice that Albus was zoning out while staring down at the impatient pieces. During one particularly long pause, the king grew irritated and threw his small stone sword at Albus’ hand, causing him to jump and nearly dislodge the board.

One by one, each of the Potters began to declare their sleepiness. Albus was exhausted, but his body wasn’t yet on the same page as his mind. He knew sleep would be difficult, and somehow the idea of going to bed here was even more difficult than sleeping in the Slytherin dorms. At least there his mother wasn’t going out of her way to make him more comfortable than he deserved.

“Albus?”

Albus looked up at Lily. She was standing over him, holding out her hand to help him up from the floor. Albus took it, but was careful not to use her assistance, and he struggled to his feet alone, trying to shake the pins and needles out of his foot.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” Lily asked. Behind her, Ginny and James were cleaning up their cups and dishes from the evening’s snacks, and Harry was picking the pillows, chess pieces and Exploding Snap board up off the floor.

“A bit,” Albus shrugged. “But you and James were out racing around all day, so you must be half asleep.”

As if to prove his point, Lily yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Kinda,” she admitted. “Anyway, I’m going to go to bed. I’m glad you’ll be here in the morning,” she said, and much to Albus’ surprise, she hugged him and kissed his cheek. James ruffled his hair and wished him a good night as well before they both headed up the stairs to their bedrooms.

“Heading to bed, Al?” Ginny asked, and because Albus didn’t know what to say, he nodded.

“Are you sleepy?” Harry asked, tossing the last of the cushions back onto the loveseat. “You were out for quite a while this afternoon.”

“I’m tired,” Albus said.

“Is there anything that would make you feel better?” Harry asked.

 _Scorpius_ , Albus thought instantly, though he knew his father was thinking of what kind of food might put a smile on Albus’ face. Albus had always hated being separated from his friend over summers and holidays, but now he was imagining all manner of horrible things happening to him while they were apart.

But if Albus said that, Harry or Ginny would surely go to the Malfoy Manor in the morning and ask for Scorpius to come over, and Scorpius would surely go with them. No, it was best that Albus keep his mouth shut. Scorpius didn’t deserve to have his Christmas messed up just because Albus couldn’t handle himself.

“I’m fine,” Albus lied. “I’m just going to go up to bed.”

Albus half-heartedly returned his father’s customary good night hug and extracted himself quickly. He rushed up the stairs, going past James and Lily’s rooms as quietly as possible before climbing the steep folding staircase that went up to the attic.

Albus fell into his bed and buried his face in the pillow. He grabbed Norbert and burrowed into the covers, wrapping himself in them tight. Something in his chest hurt, so he hugged Norbert, pressing the dragon’s heated belly over his heart. He held it tight, rubbing his thumb over the rough spot where Norbert’s left eye used to be until he fell into a half-sleep that, at the very least, made the night go by faster.

* * *

_Mr. and Mrs. Potter,_

_I know it’s very late, but I just had a long talk with my son and have to admit that I underestimated the lingering effects of his and Albus’ experiences at the start of the term. If it is convenient, I think it would be good for me to bring Scorpius by sometime tomorrow afternoon, unless you would prefer to bring Albus to the Manor. Please let me know if this will be possible._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Draco L. Malfoy_

* * *

_Draco,_

_I’m getting that same sense from Albus. I do hope Scorpius is okay._

_We’ll be at The Burrow after around 11:00 tomorrow. Would you be able to visit there? You and Scorpius would be welcome to have dinner with the family if you’d like. We’re having a very big dinner this year, so there will be a lot of people and not all of them will be ginger._

_We’re going to bed now, but we’ll be up early tomorrow, so if you need anything just send us an owl._

_Happy Christmas!_

_-Ginny_

* * *

_Mr. and Mrs. Potter,_

_It is very kind of you to invite us. I do hope we would be welcome in your parents’ home and I would not want to impose or cause any anxiety on Christmas. However, I do think Scorpius would greatly appreciate seeing Albus on Christmas, so I will bring him by in the afternoon._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco L. Malfoy_

* * *

_Draco,_

_You’re perfectly welcome. Don’t worry. And stop being so formal._

_-H_

* * *

“I’m worried, Gin,” Harry whispered as he handed his wife her morning cup of coffee. She accepted it gratefully and took a long sip, and Harry watched as she became more focused. He worked a small tangle from her hair, letting it fall smooth and straight again. Sometimes he was sorry to see the calm, sleepy smile fade from his wife’s face. Harry often felt that he loved Ginny the most when she’d just woken up before the worries and cares of the day got in the way.

“You’re always worried,” Ginny said. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I’m worried about Albus.”

Ginny thought about that for a moment. “Nope. Still going to have to be more specific.”

“I’ve been worried for a while,” Harry said, “but I think not worried enough.”

“Is this about Draco’s letter?”

“Not really,” Harry said. “I’ve obviously been worried about Albus since… well, you know.”

“I do.”

“And I think I’ve always seen Albus as so similar to both of us in some ways, and I just… I didn’t stop to think about how I’d handled Cedric’s death. And it was awful and the nightmares were horrid, but in the back of my mind, it was just another tragedy, right? I’d been dealing with them for a while.”

“Well, yes,” Ginny agreed. “Not on that scale, but it’s not like you had an easy childhood.”

“Right. But Albus… I mean, I thought about how I would have felt if I’d seen Cedric die but hadn’t had any real experience with loss.”

“I thought about that, too,” Ginny said. “How it would be different for Albus. You know, wizards have a lot of advantages over muggles, but I think one area they’re significantly better than us is in mental and emotional care. I know Albus has seemed okay in his letters, but I’ve still been worried since he went back after Halloween, so I used the internets, to try and figure out what we could do for him just to make sure he’s okay. I didn’t want to trouble you even more. I know how difficult Godric’s Hollow was for you. It’s been less than two months.”

Harry swallowed. Ginny had never danced around difficult topics or avoided names that brought up painful memories. It wasn’t her style, and he’d always appreciated it, even now, at Christmas when some of his memories were the most painful.

“Is that why you suggested the extravagant broom for Christmas?”

Ginny nodded. “Yes. Because I think it will show him that we don’t blame him for anything. And maybe it will make him smile. I know he hates Quidditch, but we could all go flying together. It might help a bit.”

Harry smiled at her and shook his head. “You constantly amaze me,” he said, wrapping his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulling her close. “You really do.”

Ginny smiled and leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder lightly. For a long moment, Harry held her in the stillness, well aware of how fortunate he was. He had a home, a wonderful wife and three intelligent, healthy children. He had a huge, extended family and was now related to both of his best friends from Hogwarts. It was more than he’d dare hope for sometimes, and now he was even more grateful for his wife’s ability to pick up where he left off.

“How long do you think we have before they wake up?” Ginny asked.

Harry looked at the clock and was contemplating his response when a loud shriek from upstairs answered for him. He cringed as a round of yelling followed and felt Ginny sigh against his cheek.

“Well,” Ginny said. “Lily is up.”

* * *

Albus covered his ears, trying  to block out the noise. James was yelling for Lily to get out of his room, and Lily was laughing about it being Christmas and demanding he get up. Albus cringed as he heard something hit the wall below him - something soft that was thrown hard - followed immediately by the door slamming and the sound of Lily’s footsteps coming up the ladder  to the attic.

“Please, no. Please, no. Please, no,” Albus chanted into his pillow.

“Albus!”

“Please, no.”

Albus’ door burst open and Lily flew through it. She leaped onto his bed, bouncing on her knees. Her extraordinarily long red hair fell around her like a fiery sheet, catching the light from the window, and Albus cringed at the brightness.

“Albus! It’s Christmas morning!”

“Yes, that does tend to follow Christmas Eve,” Albus muttered, surly.

Lily laughed at him and shook him by his arm. Albus knew what this was. Their parents would never let them open presents until everyone was downstairs and Lily was always very excited about  gifts - both opening her own and watching others open the ones she’d picked out. She’d nearly combusted the year she’d found a jumper patterned with lightning bolts, and had cackled madly when her father had worn it for the rest of the day.

“Come on, Albus!”

“I don’t want to,” Albus groaned. It was embarrassing enough that he’d come home without any gifts for his family. Now he was faced with the prospect of being a dark cloud over their otherwise idyllic Gryffindor Christmas morning. He wondered briefly if he could get away with pretending he had the beginning stages of spattergroit....

“Albus! Lily! James! Get down here!”

Lily squealed and jumped off the bed. In two bounds, she was at the door and then out of sight. Albus turned his face into his pillow. There was no avoiding it now.

With legs heavy as lead, Albus pulled himself from bed. He dragged himself to the door, shaking and shivering as his feet moved across the cold wooden floor. His mother’s warming charm must have worn off in the night. He grabbed his robe, regretting (not for the first time) that he’d defiantly purchased a Slytherin one in Diagon Alley during their last round of clothing shopping during the summer.

Albus walked down the stairs, past the other bedrooms, and then down to the first floor. The staircase spilled into the living room where Lily and James were happily tossing presents back and forth among themselves and to their parents, who were calmly seated on the sofa. Albus slipped into the room quietly and settled into the armchair off to the side, wishing desperately that he were invisible.

“For mum!” Lily said, tossing a gift to Ginny, who fumbled as she caught it.

“Dad!” James threw a round, squishy package that was surely new robes at Harry, who grabbed it one  handed without spilling his coffee. James drew another box from under the tree and checked the tag.

“Snake -”

“ _James_ ,” Ginny scolded. Albus shrank into his seat.

“Fine, fine. Albus,” James said. He set the box down on the floor and slid it across the carpet where it settled against Albus’ feet. Albus reached down and picked it up and was surprised to find that it was quite heavy.

“Wait,” Harry said, setting his mug aside. “All of Albus’ go together. James, hand me that big box from behind the tree.”

Albus watched his brother pull a long rectangular box from behind the tree. He looked vexed and the box seemed weighty.

“What is it?” James asked. Albus felt somewhat better since James seemed to know no more than he did.

“Well, let’s have Albus open it,” Harry said.

Ginny stood and took it from him, smiling, and Albus noticed it wasn’t wrapped in the same kind of paper as the others. This was wrapped in simple foil with green and silver stripes, held together with a single silver bow holding the lid on top.

“Here, Albus,” Ginny said. Albus watched in shock as she walked over to him, stumbling a bit over Lily’s scattered presents, and set the box down across his lap. Albus frowned down at it, his brow knit together. Whatever it was, it seemed important. His father and mother were looking at him with complete interest, and Albus swallowed hard, feeling immense pressure.

“I wasn’t able to get you guys anything,” Albus muttered sheepishly. “I shouldn’t open this.”

“Nonsense,” Ginny said. “It’s Christmas, Albus. We wanted to get something nice for you.”

Albus tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t go away. He peered up at Lily through his bangs and saw her bouncing on her heels. James may not have known what the gift was, but Lily seemed to.

“Open it,” she hissed.

“But -”

“Albus, it’s okay,” Ginny said. Albus looked up at his mother as Harry joined her and wrapped his arm loosely around her waist. She was looking down at him with a kind smile that reminded him so much of Grandma Molly, and he had to look away. He’d be seeing his living grandparents tonight for the first time since August - before Godric’s Hollow. Surely his parents had told them everything and they had to be disappointed in him. They just had to be. He wondered if he would even get his Weasley sweater this year...

With some trepidation, Albus slid his fingertips under the lid of the box and pulled it back, letting it fall to the floor with a soft _thump_. Lily was bouncing even more violently on the balls of her feet, and James let out a quiet “oh” as he realized what the present was just before Albus pushed back the silvery tissue paper to see for himself.

On a bed of black satin lay a Firebolt 3000. The mahogany body was so polished that Albus could see the ceiling’s reflection in the surface and each of the tail-twigs was shaped perfectly, arching down to a custom painted point of silver that faded into green at the tip.

The room was silent for a moment as Albus stared at it, shocked. It was unbearable, but Albus couldn’t seem to speak or move and he was grateful the box was so large. It gave him the opportunity to tuck his hands away to hide that they were shaking.

“I know you’ve never liked Quidditch, but you liked flying as a kid and we thought you might like your own broom,” Harry said. “I had a Firebolt when I was your age and I loved it. This one is about ten times better than my old one.”

Albus didn’t look up but he could see that his dad had shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajamas like he always did when he was uncomfortable.

“And see?” Harry continued when Albus didn’t say anything. He pointed at the tail of the broom. “They do special colors now, so I had them put Slytherin colors on it so everyone would know it’s yours.”

This was too much. Without warning or provocation, Albus burst into tears. He did not take the time to go from lightly crying to sobbing. Within seconds he’d hung his head and was struggling to breathe.

“Albus?” said Lily, worried.

“But it’s the best broom out there,” said James.

Albus couldn’t breathe. Ginny quickly pulled the box with the Firebolt off of his lap and handed it to Harry. It disappeared, and Albus heard his father telling James and Lily to go upstairs, and when they protested he told them to go anywhere that was _away_. Lily said something about snow, and within seconds Albus heard them scraping around in the mudroom.

“Albus?”

His mother was on her knees in front of him, forcing herself into his line of sight. Albus moved to bury his face in his hands, but she was fast and placed her hands on his arms, blocking him.

“Al, what’s wrong?”

Harry was beside her now, looking at Albus with eyes that looked just like his own, but Albus was certain his had never looked that caring or concerned in all his life. He just wasn’t capable of it.

He didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t even know if there was an answer. All he knew was that he had been looking down at the broom his parents had given him because they thought they had to, and an overwhelming wave of guilt had taken over and now he was sobbing harder than he ever had in all his life.

“Albus,” Harry said eagerly. Ginny sat aside. His hands were on either side of Albus’ face to make Albus look at him but not forcing him. Albus didn’t have the strength to resist, and he was immediately aware that his face was covered in tears. Harry didn’t seem to care at all.

“You have to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

“I -” Albus choked. “The broom.”

“The broom?”

“I don’t -” he choked again and coughed. Harry waited patiently for him to catch his breath, and Albus thought his parents should just leave him here and go make snow angels with Lily and James. Albus forced a deep breath that hurt his chest and made his pulse pound in his ears, and was finally able to talk.

“I don’t deserve it,” Albus said, so quiet that he could barely hear himself.

“Why do you say that, sweetheart?” Ginny asked. She was sitting back on her heels, her hands now folded atop her Weird Sisters pajamas.

Albus pulled the sleeve of his robe down and wiped his face, still struggling for breath. It was useless. He couldn’t stop crying.

“I screwed everything up,” Albus said, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and rocking forward with his elbows on his knees. “Everything.”

“Is this… is this about October?” Ginny asked.

“Of course it is,” Harry said. There was a sadness in his voice that Albus wanted to hate but couldn’t. He was too full of something else now to feel anything more and he sobbed again into his sleeve. He felt someone’s fingers sliding through his hair to the back of his head, and a moment later he found himself being gently pulled to the floor next to his father.

Albus was weak to accept comfort like this - from the very people he’d hurt and upset the most, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like he was five years old again and he’d skinned his knee or heard James say something mean about him. Harry wrapped his arm around Albus’ shoulders and he collapsed into his father’s side, trying to stifle his tears against the shoulder of Harry’s shirt. He felt his mother sidle up on his other side, and then her slender fingers were brushing his hair back and smoothing it down just as she’d done when he was a child and couldn’t sleep.

“Albus, it’s okay,” Harry said.

“It’s my fault,” Albus said.

“It’s not.” There was a firmness to Harry’s voice that told Albus not to argue, and he sat back a bit. Harry didn’t let him move far at all, and Albus glanced up at him for a second before looking down at his own knees.

“Nothing that happened was your fault,” Harry said. “I mean… okay, stealing the time turner wasn’t your finest moment. I’ll give you that -”

“I don’t have _fine_ moments,” Albus muttered.

“Yes, you do,” his parents chorused. Albus wondered if they smiled at one another over his head. They normally did when they were that in sync, but he didn’t dare look.

“You felt like you had to steal the time turner,” Harry said. “And you thought you were doing the right thing. Everything after that just… cascaded.”

“But it was so stupid. I don’t know why I thought I had to.”

“It sounds pretty similar to when I flew to London because I thought Sirius was dying,” Harry said. Albus knew he had heard the story - Aunt Hermione cited it in the list of reasons why she preferred to keep both feet on the ground when asked to go flying - but it had always just been another one of those things his father had done when he was young. It was another tale of triumph and tragedy in Harry Potter’s legacy. Albus failed to see the comparison. He couldn’t find the triumph at all.

“Because you wanted to fix something you thought was wrong,” Harry said. “There’s no shame in wanting to make the world a better place.”

“But I didn’t,” Albus protested. He withdrew as much as he could from his parents and drew his knees to his chest. “I didn’t. Craig died. Rose and Hugo were just gone and I nearly got us all killed and gave…” Albus wasn’t sure he could bring  himself to say the name right now, “ _her_ what she needed.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Ginny assured him. She ran what should have been a comforting hand over his shoulder, and Albus had to check his instinct to pull away even further. He was sandwiched between them. There was nowhere to go that they wouldn’t follow now.

“ _We_ didn’t know,” Harry said. “You acted on the information you had and that’s all any of us can do.”

Outside, he heard Lily and James’ voices. He’d expected to hear them laughing and playing, but instead they sounded concerned. They were so muffled that Albus couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he knew they were talking about him. How could they not be?

“I keep thinking about Craig. I didn’t even know him that well and I can’t really remember his face, but I keep… _seeing_ it, even when I don’t want to… and it’s Christmas and I keep thinking about his family and how awful it must be without their son and brother.”

Albus started crying harder and he buried his face in his arms. It was embarrassing and pathetic, and he was torn between wanting to run upstairs and lock himself in his room and staying here until he felt a little better, but that felt selfish. Surely his parents and siblings wanted to enjoy their Christmas, which would be done best without him.

Albus looked up at his father, his vision interrupted by the hair falling into his face (when was the last time he’d had it cut?). Harry had a sad smile on his face and was sitting cross-legged at Albus’ side.

“Albus, it’s okay to be upset,” Harry said slowly. Albus recognized the cadance. It was the one he used when he read arrestees their rights as he escorted them to the ministry (Harry had made the mistake of taking action a few times while off-duty with his family), or when he stood before the Wizengamot and testified. He wanted to make sure Albus listened to every word, and it was so quiet on the sitting room floor that Albus couldn’t help but listen.

“You saw some horrible things, and I’m so sorry I didn’t come visit you at Hogwarts. I thought you’d need space because I think it’s what I would have  wanted. It’s what I _did_ want sometimes. But you’re not me, and I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Albus said, wiping the moisture from his face with the sleeve of his robe. “I’m why you were there. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

Harry paused. Albus saw his eyes flicker up to Ginny and he looked at her over Albus’ shoulder for a moment.

“Albus, I don’t think you should feel guilty about something unless there was real harm done by your own hand and intention. Can you agree with that?”

After brief consideration, Albus nodded.

“Okay. If anyone has a right to be angry with you, it’s me. I’d be at the top of that list.”

Albus nodded again. He wrapped his arms tighter around his legs, squeezing them tight and resting his chin atop his knees.

“I am not angry,” Harry said, his words slow and concise. “I don’t blame you for anything. In fact, I’m a bit proud of your… what did they call it? Moral fiber.”

Behind him, Ginny scoffed at Harry. Albus looked over at her and saw that she was smiling at them. She wrapped her arms around Albus’ shoulders from behind and held him gently - loose enough that he could pull away if he wanted, but Albus found that he wasn’t inclined to. He leaned back against her and found that she was warm. Slowly, some of the numbness in his chest started to bleed out.

Harry gave Albus’ knee a gentle squeeze. “Your methods might have played into someone else’s hands, but that doesn’t make it your fault.”

“I agree,” said Ginny. “And I’m glad you stood up for something you believed in, even if it went badly. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“You’re not mad?” Albus asked her. He couldn’t turn around and face her, but he felt Ginny kiss the side of his head.

“No, I’m not mad. I don’t blame you either. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

“You have to say that,” Albus muttered. “You’re my parents.”

In front of him, Harry’s mouth twisted in consideration. He was thinking something over, and when he decided, he crawled over to the fireplace a short distance away. Before Albus could work up the courage to ask what he was doing, Harry had thrown a handful of Floo Powder into the flames and leaned into them.

“What is he doing?” Albus asked his mum in a whisper. Ginny moved a bit and Albus jumped, prepared to move away because he was making her uncomfortable, but Ginny had simply shifted to allow Albus to lean back onto her more comfortably. When she pulled him back close, Albus didn’t protest. He couldn’t even muster the energy to feel embarrassed that his mum was holding him like he was an upset child.

Maybe he _was_ an upset child.

“Good morning! Yes, Happy Christmas to you, too. And you!” Harry said into the fireplace. The voices on the other end were muffled. The recipients must not have been close to their own grate. “Could you maybe spare a few minutes and come over? Yes, I know I’m interrupting. I promise, it won’t take long. No, no. Just you two. It’s important. No, we’ll see _you_ this afternoon. With presents. You will? Yes, I have the damn biscuits you like. Not the sugar-free kind. Ok, come through.”

Harry sat back and scrambled away from the fireplace, settling back down beside Albus and Ginny. Albus looked up at them, confused, but Harry was busy putting his arm around Ginny’s shoulders before leaning down and kissing the top if Albus’ head, much like Ginny had moments before. Albus, who was already too uncomfortable to speak, was stunned into further silence. He couldn’t remember the last time Harry had done that.

A moment later, the fireplace flashed green and a blur of purple and red swept from it. Hermione emerged, wrapping the silver tie around the violet robe over her pajamas, and Ron followed close behind in a bright red Weasley sweater from years past that clashed horribly with his hair. They looked around, confused until they spotted the three Potters huddled together on the floor. Hermione gasped and Albus cringed, turning and hiding his face against his mother's arm. He hadn't thought far enough ahead to realize that he must have looked horrible with tear stains on his cheeks and his face all splotchy from sobbing.

"Albus!" Hermione said. She sat down on the couch close to them and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "Al, what's wrong? It's Christmas."

She looked at Harry, a bit frazzled and a bit angry. Maybe she was irritated that he hadn't warned her what he was walking into.

"I thought you'd called us over here for some gift disaster," Hermione said. "Like the potions kit meltdown."

Ron settled in beside her, looking equally concerned. It was out of the ordinary to see Ron looking so serious. Normally he was ready to crack jokes and make fun of everyone, himself included. Most days it rubbed Albus the wrong way, but now, maybe some levity would have been a distraction for everyone else.

"Albus is feeling very guilty about a lot of things that happened this fall,” Ginny explained.

“Ah,” said Ron, understanding.

“Albus, would you like to tell your aunt and uncle why you feel bad?”

Albus knew she wasn’t asking him if he wanted to. He was going to tell them whether he liked it or not. With what little shredded nerve he had left, Albus sat up a bit straighter and wiped the fresh moisture from his face. He swallowed, trying to clear his throat only to find that it was sore and scratchy from crying.

“Everything that happened in October was my fault,” Albus muttered, unable to speak much more over a whisper. “I disappeared Rose and Hugo. You two weren’t married. Scorpius got stuck in that other place. Craig died. I nearly got us all killed and we were all in Godric’s Hollow when…”

Albus looked at Harry. Unlike his father, he wasn’t good at discussing difficult things, but he supposed Harry had a lot of practice.

“Well, let’s be fair, Albus. I think we’ve all thought of vanishing Rose at one point or another.”

Albus looked up, shocked that anyone could make such a joke. He was even more shocked that it came from Hermione, and that Ron was looking both aghast and amused.

“Hermione!”

“What?” Hermione said. “I love my daughter but she can be tedious.”

“She’s just like you were at her age,” Ron countered.

“ _Just_ like you,” Harry supported.

“And I do apologize for that.”

Ron shook his head and cleared his throat. When he and Hermione looked down at Albus, he felt like shrinking back against his mother, or better yet, escaping up the stairs. Inexplicably, he thought of Scorpius sitting with him in silence in the Hogwarts library, and the way his quiet presence had been a comfort. Albus wished he were here now, but then again, Albus always wished he were around.

“Al,” Ron began, folding his hands in his lap. “What happened wasn’t really your fault. You might have started it, but it’s not your fault you’re a Potter and thus a trouble-magnet.”

“It’s true,” Ginny said, solemn.

“Ron’s right. It wasn’t your fault -”

“Say that again,” Ron requested.

“It wasn’t his fault?”

“No, the first part.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Ron is right," she repeated.

Ron gave a happy sigh. "Sorry," he said to Albus. "I just don't hear that very often."

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, and they exchanged a brief smile that made Albus feel uncomfortable as if he were intruding upon something private.

"Anyway," Hermione segued. "Albus, we don't blame you for anything. You made a choice and that choice set some things in motion. That doesn't make you responsible for what happened to us or to Craig."

"See?" Harry said, gesturing to Ron and Hermione. "They don't blame you. And we don't blame you. And I had to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Bowker, and they understand that their son's death was a tragic accident at the hands of a very disturbed young woman."

"But she was there because _I_ wrote her a letter!"

"She was there because she deceived you into thinking she was someone else. You cannot be blamed for not seeing it. I didn't either, and I'm trained to spot the warning signs."

Albus hadn't considered this. Not even for a minute. He stared at Harry, unblinking.

"Yeah, and how could we possibly be mad at you?" Ron asked. "Do you have any idea how many times your dad nearly got us killed?"

"It's true," Hermione nodded.

"There was the time we went after the stone, the time we went into the forest looking for the spiders –"

"The time Voldemort possessed me to get to him," Ginny added.

"Yes! And the chamber caved in," Ron continued. Albus cracked a smile in spite of himself. These were the stories he'd grown up on. "And then we wound up in the forest with a killer and a werewolf, and then in the Ministry with a whole crew of murderers –"

"We get it," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Albus looked between them as Ron and Hermione smiled at Harry. It wasn't the first time they'd made fun of him for the trouble they'd gotten into as teenagers, and Albus knew it wouldn't be the last. Albus had never really felt like he was a member of his family – not the way his parents and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione fit together with James, Lily, Rose and Hugo. They were a jigsaw puzzle and Albus was a spare piece that had never quite fit.

He wrapped his arms around his knees again, but not as tight as last time. Not like he wanted to collapse into himself and disappear. He rested his chin on his knees.

Maybe Craig's death really hadn't been his fault. Maybe he wasn't to blame for Harry having to witness his parent's deaths and relive his experiences with Voldemort, and maybe he wasn't to blame for Scorpius being stuck in the dark timeline. Maybe, just maybe, he'd done one thing because he was young and stupid and wasn't responsible for everything that followed.

Most of the people who had a right to be angry with him were in the room and they were all looking at him with concern and care. His parents were touching him – Ginny's arm had found its way back around his shoulders and Harry had scooted over so his side was pressed against Albus'. They were touching him because they loved him and didn't blame him, and maybe they really were glad he was home for Christmas…

"I'm sorry," Albus muttered.

"Don't apologize," Hermione said. "It wasn't your fault."

"No, I mean… I'm sorry I'm such a mess and a burden."

"You're not a mess," Ginny assured him. Ron shook his head to indicate that he didn't think so either.

"You're human," Harry said. "And you went through something truly horrible for the first time in your life, and because you're a good person you felt it. If you weren’t, this wouldn’t have affected you.”

Albus considered this too. Wasn’t that what his dad had always maintained was the key difference between Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle (and Harry always called him Tom when he spoke about it at length)?

He looked between them and swallowed hard, trying in vain to clear the lump in his throat. He already knew his voice would be raspy for the rest of the day.

“So… none of you are mad at me?”

“No,” said Hermione in her firm “Minister” voice.

“Not at all,” echoed Ginny.

Harry and Ron shook their heads. “And, more importantly, you shouldn’t be mad at yourself. Don’t feel guilty about anything more than a few well-intentioned moments of bad judgment when you used the time turner.”

Albus studied their faces long and hard, and they sat still, watching him to allow it. There were no traces of dishonesty or anger. There wasn’t any pain. There was only concern and love, and Albus felt a fresh wave of tears start crawling down his cheeks.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay?” Ginny asked.

Albus nodded and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him gently to lean against her as she rested back against the bottom of Harry’s favorite armchair. He felt the knots and tension loosen in his body, leaving only grief and exhaustion as he lay his head against his mother’s shoulder, allowing himself to feel safe and warm there.

“The next time you’re upset about something, you should talk to someone,” Harry said. “I thought you would have talked to Scorpius.”

“I couldn’t,” Albus murmured. Ginny stroked his hair, and Albus knew it wasn’t because she was trying to smooth it down or because she felt she had to. It was because she still loved him and she was glad he was there.

“I know that now. But if there’s ever anything you can’t talk to your friends about, you can come to us, okay?”

“And if there’s ever anything you don’t want to talk to your mum and dad about, we’re always here too,” Ron said.

“You tell Dad everything,” Albus said.

“I managed to keep last year’s surprise party a secret for three whole days,” Ron retorted. Albus didn’t need to look up to know that Hermione had rolled her eyes.

“Two and a half, and he knew something was up,” she said.

“I know what you mean, though” Albus said. “I know you’re there. You… you always have been.”

He gave a great yawn and curled up against his mother’s side, grateful for once that he was still relatively small for his age and could  get away with certain things (not that he thought his parents would ever tire of having their children hug them or snuggle up to them when they were unwell in any way. It took Albus a very long time to understand that his family was far more tactile than others).

“Thank you,” Albus muttered to no one in particular. He was grateful to all of them, but especially his father who often seemed to have every reason to dislike him, but chose to love him anyway.

With a crushing weight off his shoulders, Albus found himself to be immeasurably tired. His body felt limp and heavy and he couldn’t even bring himself to move when Ginny adjusted his weight against her side.

“I need to talk to Scorpius,” Albus muttered as his eyes closed of their own accord. He felt someone settle beside him and a large, warm hand came to rest on his arm. He could smell the warm, cinnamon-like soap Harry liked to use.

“We already talked to Draco,” came Harry’s voice. “They’ll be at The Burrow this afternoon.”

There was a scuffle a short distance away. Ron scoffed and it was followed by a distinct _smack_ where, Albus assumed, Hermione had slapped his arm to shut him up.

Normally, this news would have been groundbreaking. Now all it did was assure Albus that he would be able to talk to his friend and hopefully set things right within the day.

“That’s nice,” Albus said, and promptly fell asleep on his mother’s shoulder.

* * *

When Albus woke some time later, Lily and James were sitting quietly underneath the Christmas tree, each reading brand new books he knew their parents had gotten them for Christmas. He didn’t remember being moved, but now he was laying on the couch with his head resting on a pillow against his mother’s lap, and his feet draped over his father’s knees.

Everyone was quiet, and Albus knew they were trying to let him sleep. For a moment, no one noticed that he’d opened his eyes, and he simply looked around at what he could see without moving - the Christmas tree with its warm, colorful fairy lights; the fireplace still flickering away behind where James say on a cushion, engrossed in his book; Lily seated some distance away with a new copy of _Modern Potions: Practice and Theory_ propped up in front of her. Albus looked down and saw that Harry was sitting quite still with one hand scribbling away in a notebook and the other resting on Albus’ bare ankle.

“Al?”

He looked up at Lily, who’d clearly seen that he was awake. Her earlier combustive energy had been stowed away, and now she just looked worried to the point of being frightened.

“Hey,” Albus said. His voice was even worse than before.

Ginny shifted underneath him, and Albus moved to sit up, but she lay a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. Albus felt so drained and weak that he didn’t fight her.

“Are you feeling better?” Ginny asked. Albus looked up at her and nodded before looking back at his siblings. What had his parents told them while he was asleep? How had they explained his rather sudden and intense sobbing over what should have been a wonderful gift?

He didn't have to wonder long. Lily abandoned her book and crawled over to the couch and sat down in front of him, only a few inches from his face.

“Mum and dad said you’ve been beating yourself up over whatever happened in October,” Lily said. Albus glanced at Harry. He knew his parents hadn’t told Lily and James everything - it would have been a pointless exercise in upsetting them - but they knew something had happened and that it involved a time turner and had stirred up rumors of Voldemort’s offspring again.

“I guess,” Albus admitted.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Lily said.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring us at school?” Lily asked.

“Maybe,” Albus admitted. “But it’s not like we usually spend a lot of time together there anyway. Besides, you and James are always with your Gryffindor friends, and you don’t like my Slytherin ones.”

“Scorpius is alright,” Lily said. “I don’t… I mean, I haven’t talked to him many times, but he helped me  clean up my bag that time I spilled ink everywhere.”

Albus hadn’t known about this, but he smiled at the idea of Scorpius making awkward jokes while siphoning ink off of Lily’s books.

James spoke up from his corner. He too had set his book aside and was watching the exchange closely, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded. By virtue of being a Quidditch player, James was getting to be quite strong, and by virtue of having his position as captain of the Gryffindor Chess Team snatched away when the group voted him out, he’d lost some of his arrogant energy over the last few months.

“You should -” James cut himself off, considering his choice of words. “You _could_ have told us something was wrong.”

Albus shook his head, not because there was any point in denying that anything had been wrong, but because he knew he couldn’t have. Maybe he’d needed something to break him down, and he wasn’t going to find that in the cocoon he’d build himself at Hogwarts.

“It’s okay,” Albus said. “Really, I… Scorpius has been a big help. I haven’t been alone.”

“Maybe you three should try to have dinner together every now and then,” Harry suggested. “Keep up with one another.”

“You can go down to the kitchens,” Ginny added. “The House Elves love all of our lot because of Hermione anyway.”

Lily snickered. She’d always found the House Elves to be very kind and entertaining, and had been more than pleased to find the Weasley-Grangers and Potters were elevated above all other students by the Hogwarts kitchen staff. This had led her to put on at least half a stone in her first year.

“That way no one can see us hanging out with the Slytherin Potter?”

James’ words might have been insulting, but Albus met his eyes across the room. There was no malice there, only an apologetic smile that clearly said _I’m sorry I didn’t notice._ Albus smiled back weakly and nodded. It was the closest thing to an understanding they were going to achieve in a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so the wait for this was way too long. The holidays were busier than expected, I wound up with more work than planned, and I got distracted when I wasn't working. You've got my sincerest apologies.
> 
> Thanks to [@slytherin629](https://slytherin629.tumblr.com/) for betaing and for being so patient.
> 
>  
> 
> [Talk to me on Tumblr.](https://ijustwalkintomordor.tumblr.com/)


	5. A Christmas Apology

At The Burrow, it was Albus’ favorite kind of weather - a little bit of snow on the ground and just cold enough to keep it frozen, but not so cold that it was unbearable. He’d stayed quiet during lunch with his grandparents, which was easy. There were over twenty people crammed into the house and he wasn’t known for being the life of the party anyway, so he’d been able to sit quietly at his mother’s side while she chatted with her siblings, nieces and nephews. Every few minutes, Ginny would look at him and check to see that he was okay, and while a part of Albus was embarrassed that she felt she had to, he was grateful for her attention and care.

After everyone was done eating and had resorted to lounging about in various corners of the couch, lamenting the number of cookies they’d consumed, Albus had found his father in the kitchen. Harry had given him a mug of hot chocolate, and together they’d gone outside to the patio Albus associated with Grandma Molly’s afternoon tea and skinned knees as a child.

“Are you feeling okay?” Harry asked, tightening his own scarf around his neck. Albus did the same and sipped at his drink. It was the perfect temperature for the cold and soothed his sore throat.

“I’m alright.”

“I know that’s a lot of people,” Harry said. “It’s a bit insane this year.”

“It’s insane every year.”

Albus exchanged a smile with his father as they slowly walked the perimeter of the garden. Harry was quiet for a moment and he ran his hand over the tops of the still-living herb plants, no doubt warming his fingers on the protective charms that kept them safe from the cold.

“Are you going to be okay, Albus?” Harry asked.

Albus considered the larger question that his father was asking. He wasn’t okay now - not by a long shot - but somehow, he felt a bit emptier than before, like all the abrasive pain he’d been keeping inside had leaked out, leaving behind a hollowness and acceptance that was far less agonizing. Albus suspected it would probably feel a bit better once he’d talked with Scorpius, who Albus felt should be the second person on the list of people who had a right to hate him.

“I will be,” Albus said, wrapping his coat tighter around him and sipping at his cocoa again to keep the scratchiness in his throat at bay. “Does it get better with time?”

“The unwelcome memories?” Harry asked with a wry smile. “They stop intruding after a while. It took your mum and I years after the Battle of Hogwarts, honestly, but we felt like ourselves again not too long after. Your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione and I… we spent whole nights sitting out here by the fire pit -” Harry pointed at the stone pit a short distance away on a cracked stone dais in the middle of the lawn. “Sometimes your mum joined us. We just talked and talked. It took all summer for us to feel like ourselves.”

“When am I going to feel like myself again?” Albus’ voice was smaller than he would have liked, but he figured he didn’t have much room to worry about his dignity today.

“I don’t know,” Harry said honestly. “There are some days lately that I haven’t been a hundred percent. You just… have to take it one day at a time and let the people who love you be there.”

Albus didn’t say anything. He didn’t know that he had anything to add, and so he dedicated himself to the simple task of drinking his hot chocolate. Harry must have sensed this, because he stood at Albus’ side, looking out over the rolling field that stretched behind The Burrow, taking in the wintery landscape and sipping from his mug too.

The silence was pleasant, and for the first time in ages, Albus felt a tiny bit of contentment. He was just working up the nerve to tell his dad that too when someone called for him from the back door.

“Harry?”

Albus and his father turned to see Charlie leaning outside. He spotted them and waved.

“Harry, mum needs help with the ham and Ron’s been looking for you.”

“Alright,” Harry sighed. He took a few strides back towards the house, but stopped when he realized Albus wasn’t following.

“I’m going to stay out here for a bit,” Albus said. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Harry said. “Just don’t get too chilly, yeah?”

Albus nodded and Harry gave him an encouraging smile before heading inside, leaving Albus to the silence that accompanied the snowy landscape.

* * *

Of all the awkward situations Scorpius had found himself in - and there had been some significant ones throughout his brief life - this had to be at least one of the top three.

Rose, who was apparently responsible for cookie distribution in the sitting room of The Burrow, was duty-bound to offer Scorpius a treat from the tray in her arms just after he and Draco had stepped from the pleasantly warm fireplace into the throng of Weasleys, Potters, and Granger-Weasleys. She seemed a bit annoyed. Scorpius wondered if she’d been like that before he’d arrived, or if it was his and Draco’s arrival that put that look on her face.

“Hello, Rose,” Scorpius said, selecting a snowflake cookie with blue icing from the back of the tray. He bit into it and regretted the decision immediately. Flakes of frosting and crumbs cascaded down his front, clinging to the lapels of his coat and the neck of his cashmere jumper. He scrambled to brush them off, and Rose sighed because of course Scorpius had made a mess of things.

“Hello, Scorpius,” she said. She turned to greet Draco. “Mr. Malfoy. Happy Christmas.”

Scorpius watched in silence as Draco greeted the group with restrained cordiality. He knew Draco didn’t want to be here. Being around the Potters and Weasley-Grangers was hard enough for him, but Scorpius knew this was a nest of people with a shared history and trauma that had involved more than one Malfoy. He could almost hear his father’s anxious heartbeat under his calm demeanor, and he was endlessly grateful that Draco was braving it for him.

Scorpius looked around the crowded room as Ron and Hermione started talking to Draco about mundane things - the weather, the holidays, his parents - while some of the more skeptical Weasleys looked on. As Scorpius searched for Albus, he caught the Minister giving urgent looks to some of her family, asking them with a single expression to be kind and interact. Charlie - Scorpius recognized him from some of Albus’ family photos - stepped forward and shook Draco’s hand. Scorpius met his father’s eye, and only then did Draco smile and nod, giving Scorpius permission to go on.

Scorpius caught Harry on the edges of the living room, entering from the kitchen with a cloth in his hand and a bit of flour clinging to his hair. He grinned at Scorpius, which made him feel infinitely more welcome.

“Scorpius!” Harry said. “I’m glad you made it. I see your father has been waylaid.”

Harry pointed at Draco, who was now surrounded by Ginny, Molly, and Hermione, each wearing their most determined looks.

“They’ve made it their mission to make you both feel welcome,” Harry said. “You might want to run while you can still escape.”

Scorpius was a bit awestruck by Harry Potter speaking to him in such a friendly, fatherly tone, but his happiness was tempered by Albus’ absence. He looked around awkwardly, very much aware that his friend wasn’t in the room, before looking back at Harry, who seemed quite confused at Scorpius’ searching eyes.

“Mr. Potter… where might I find Albus?”

“Ah, yes,” Harry said, understanding. “I saw him a few minutes ago outside dodging snowballs from the gnomes, so I bet he’s wandered into the orchard by now.”

Harry pointed through the window at cluster of trees with disorderly branches planted in orderly rows.

“I’ll just go, then,” Scorpius said. He’d only spoken to Harry a few times and none of them had been without Albus, and there was a part of him that still remembered Harry’s face distorted in disdain in the second timeline when he’d looked upon Scorpius with contempt and doubt. This Harry - the one in front of him that had fought in Godric’s Hollow and had looked so worried when he’d picked Albus up just a day before in Professor McGonagall’s office - didn’t remember that life. Scorpius had to remind himself that this Harry didn’t hate him.

Scorpius nodded to his own musings and headed towards the wooden door that clearly led to the outside.

“Wait a minute,” Harry said. Scorpius looked at him, expectant. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose just beneath his glasses and closed his eyes, thinking. He opened his mouth twice as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it. Scorpius fidgeted with the sleeves of his jumper before scolding himself and folding his hands. His father would be terribly disappointed if he ruined such a nice jumper the very day he’d received it as a gift. Instead, he waited awkwardly, rocking back and forth on his heels. He could hear his father talking to the Minister of Magic about the lovely new apothecary in Diagon Alley - really, she should try it -

“Albus, he… well, I’m sure you know better than I do, but he’s not been himself, has he?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Scorpius said. He looked down at his feet and dug the toe of his shoe into a deep knot in one of the wooden planks. “I think he’s cross with me, but I’m not sure why.”

“He’s not,” Harry said. “You should… you should talk to him, I think. _Really_ talk to him.”

Scorpius frowned. Harry might as well have held up a sign that said “something happened” in red flashing paint, and Scorpius was instantly concerned that some horrible ill had befallen Albus. Was he injured? Had he hurt himself? He dug his fingernails into his palm, trying not to conjure images of Albus injured or dead from his more creative nightmares.

“O-okay, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius said. He headed for the door, pulling on his coat and drawing his hands up into his sleeves to shield them from the cold. He stepped outside onto the patio as quickly as possible, eager to lay eyes on Albus after the dreadful dream he’d had the night before, and closed the door behind himself, cutting off the cacophony of voices from inside.

The silence was startling. Scorpius was thankfully prepared for the cold, as had been outside at the manor earlier in the day to lay Christmas roses by his mother’s grave in the garden and the warming charm Draco had cast over his coat still hadn’t worn off. It protected him from the biting wind, and an impervious charm on his shoes made them feel as dry as rain boots.

Scorpius headed toward the small orchard at a careful pace, mindful of ice on flat surfaces and keeping an eye out for Albus in case he’d wandered. He should have expected that Harry would know exactly where Albus was, though, and nearly laughed when he spotted Albus kneeling under an apple tree, fully focused on something. He was terribly relieved to see Albus completely alive and safe in front of him and wanted to hug him and tell him so, but something held him back. Albus, it seemed, was busy.

Scorpius watched silently as Albus held his hand out to a creature moving on the ground. He was speaking to it softly, urging it to come closer. Scorpius moved towards him and realized Albus had defrosted some green foliage - likely from the charmed portion of the herb garden - and was holding it out to a rabbit that had sought refuge under the tree.

In the silence of the snowy orchard, Scorpius could just make out what his friend was saying from a few trees away.

“It’s alright, little guy,” Albus said. His voice was quiet and gravelly, and Scorpius worried that he was getting sick. “It’s basil and mint. The only fresh stuff you’ll find out here.”

The rabbit seemed skeptical as it raised up on its hind legs to smell the handful of food in Albus’ palm. To his credit, Albus remained perfectly still and waited for the rabbit to make its decision, showing a hint of relief only when the rabbit reached into his palm and began eating the herbs.

“That’s it,” Albus whispered. “Everything’s dead out here, isn’t it? You must be hungry _and_ cold.”

If the rabbit agreed, it didn’t show it. It was solely dedicated to eating everything Albus offered it. As it finished, the rabbit allowed Albus to run a finger along its back, which made Albus smile. Scorpius wasn’t sure when he’d last seen Albus with an authentic smile on his face, but as he looked closer he realized it was offset by a considerable sadness in his eyes.

“I’ll move one of the plants out of the garden barrier when I go back,” Albus promised the rabbit. “So you’ll have something fresh to eat for a few days.”

The rabbit moved back from him, satisfied, and regarded its new friend for a moment before hopping away, leaving the smallest imprints in the snow where it went. Scorpius stood still, looking at Albus as he watched the animal go, wiping something from under his eyes before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat to protect them. His shoulders were sagging and there was a bit of a haunch to them. Albus had learned young to stand as tall as possible since he was shorter than most of the people he normally around - Scorpius included - and it would have been clear even if Harry hadn’t said anything that something was wrong.

“Albus?”

Albus jolted and turned around, grappling for something in his pocket before realizing it was just Scorpius.

“Merlin, Scorp,” Albus said. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Scorpius realized he was grasping the handle of his wand. “I nearly hexed you.”

“Really? Do you think a good hex to the face could make my nose a bit less pointy?” Scorpius asked, tapping at the end of his nose. Albus smiled again, his expression both soft and sad, as Scorpius walked over to him.

“Your nose is fine,” Albus assured him. “Besides, you’ll grow into it, just like your dad.”

“Were you really going to hex me?” Scorpius asked. “You do seem a bit jumpy.”

“Maybe,” Albus said. The snow crunched under his shoes as he walked towards Scorpius. He glanced over his shoulder, checking for the rabbit.

“That was kind. What you did for that rabbit, I mean,” Scorpius said. Something about Albus’ face told him he needed to hear something nice, and the hearty sniff Albus gave did nothing to contradict the notion. It took Scorpius a moment to realize that Albus had been crying - maybe not sobbing, but enough that he looked rattled and exposed, and that was something Scorpius didn’t see very often. This was very unlike his usual guarded and sometimes-prickly friend whose sarcasm kept people at bay, and Scorpius wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

“He looked cold and wasn’t moving too fast,” Albus explained. “I had to do something, but I know Gran wouldn’t take kindly to me bringing him inside and mum and dad wouldn’t let me keep him.”

Scorpius couldn’t help smiling at him. For all Albus’ past moodiness and persistent self-involvement, he did try to be the best person he could. That impulse, at the very least, was very Albus-y.

“Dad and I just got here a few minutes ago,” Scorpius explained. “I think your mum and grandmother are force-feeding him biscuits and tea.”

Albus just nodded, looking down at his shoes. He nudged at the snow under his feet until a patch of grass was revealed. Despite the cold, it was still a bit green. He stared at it, unmoving, for a long time. It gave Scorpius a moment to assess whether or not he should ask Albus what had him so upset.

“Albus? Are you okay?”

Scorpius wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Albus’ shoulders sagged even more. He bit at his lip before looking up at Scorpius, meeting his eyes for the first time. Albus’ eyes were very red where they should have been white and there were dark circles beneath them. He looked even worse up close. It startled Scorpius, and Albus looked down, ashamed and upset at his friend’s reaction.

“What’s wrong?” Scorpius asked. He reached out and placed his hand on Albus’ shoulder, half expecting him to flinch away or tell him to back off, but he didn’t. He just looked at Scorpius’ hand for a few seconds before looking back to his friend.

“I’m sorry,” Albus said.

“For what?” Scorpius asked.

“For getting you into that mess with the time turner,” Albus began, looking towards Scorpius but not at him. His eyes become unfocused and glassy, as if he couldn’t meet Scorpius’ gaze and speak at the same time. “For letting it get so out of hand. You were tortured and you watched Craig die.” Scorpius flinched and Albus paused, evaluating whether or not to go on. He swallowed hard and looked away at the trees. “I almost got you killed and then instead of doing whatever I could to… I don’t know - help you afterwards - I was just mean and I’m so, so sorry.”

By the end, Albus’ voice was shaky and strained. Scorpius’ heart sank as Albus looked back at him, tense and waiting for a verdict.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Albus,” Scorpius said. “Truly, I… you weren’t _mean_. You were sad.”

Albus shook his head. “I was mean and I wasn’t a good friend. I don’t know that I ever am.”

“You are! And I didn’t think I was… a good friend, I mean. I wanted to help. I just didn’t know how, so I just kind of… stayed quiet and hoped that was enough. I just wanted to be there for you like you were for me when mum died, and so I just sat with you when I could.”

“You did help. You’re always a good friend,” Albus muttered. “Better than me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Scorpius said, sheepish. Albus quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Clearly we had two different conversations in that library.”

“I don’t want to hold things against you that happened when we were first years,” Scorpius defended. “You’re a better friend now than you were then. And the other timeline… well, we were both in a difficult spot, weren’t we?” From across the lawn, Scorpius heard rising laughter from inside the Burrow. He hoped his dad was a part of it.

Albus nodded, and a flicker of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but faltered quickly. Scorpius’ heart sank even more at the sadness he could see in Albus’ eyes.

“I am sorry though, Scorpius,” Albus repeated. “I am, I… I don’t know how I feel anymore.”

“Because of Godric’s Hollow? And everything before it?”

“I understand if you blame me. And I understand if you want some space. I’m sorry if my parents contacted your dad and dragged you over here -”

Scorpius listened as Albus rambled, a sign of growing frustration and anxiety Scorpius knew well. Albus was making a laundry list of reasons why Scorpius should avoid him and walk away from their relationship. He went on and on, almost like he was trying to convince Scorpius that he wasn’t worth his time - that Scorpius should blame him for what happened and hate him.

“ - I just… I get it, really. I pulled you into something horrible and my parents say I shouldn’t be so hard on myself and that _they_ aren’t mad, but I understand if you are, really -”

Scorpius cut Albus off by launching himself at him. He caught Albus around the middle and hugged him tight, locking his arms around his friend’s waist and resting his chin on Albus’ shoulder. Albus fell silent quickly and his arms hung limp at his sides.

“I don’t blame you,” Scorpius said, his voice quiet and muffled against Albus’ shoulder. He held Albus still, afraid get defensive and try to wiggle away. Scorpius wouldn’t allow it. “I’m not mad at you. I’m worried about you because you’re my friend and I care about you and I want you to be happy.”

For a second, Scorpius worried they were at an impasse. He worried that he’d said too much (just like he worried that he felt too much). He knew Albus could be stubborn and self-deprecating, but this ran deeper. He was aching and hurt and Scorpius had known something was wrong for a long time, but Albus hadn’t let him in. Now something had broken. Albus was raw and vulnerable, and Scorpius wanted nothing more than to help find a way to put him back together again.

Just as Scorpius was starting to wonder if Albus was going to push him away, he felt Albus’ arms slowly wrap around him. His hold was weak and he felt Albus relax a bit. Albus leaned against him, his head falling against Scorpius’ where it rested on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Albus said. It seemed like ages since Albus had let himself accept any kind of affection or care, and Scorpius was grateful - so, _so_ grateful - that he’d finally come around.

“Okay,” Scorpius replied. “I just want my moody best friend back with his dry, Albus-y humor and hatred of flying.”

Albus chuckled a tiny bit. Not enough for Scorpius, but it was a start.

“I’ll try,” Albus said. “I’m just… I’m not okay yet.”

“That’s okay,” Scorpius said, his voice quieter. “I’m not either.”

“Scorpius?”

“Yeah?”

Albus paused, drumming his fingers on Scorpius’ back. “This is a really long hug.”

“It is.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to hug for like… months.”

“That’s okay,” Scorpius said. “I think my mum would have said you need a really long hug.”

Albus laughed again - a bit louder and a bit more genuine - and tightened his hold on Scorpius, one hand gripping the back of Scorpius’ coat.

“Maybe I do.”

Scorpius stood like that for a moment longer before stepping back and looking Albus in the eye. Albus didn’t need to be okay just yet, and Scorpius knew he didn’t need to be either, but if they could help one another and if they could be honest, then maybe the rest of their year would be better. Maybe by spring they’d be laughing again, and maybe by summer Albus would be excited to go on a holiday with his family, or to tag along with Draco and Scorpius on theirs. Maybe he’d learn to be happier, and maybe Albus would be more comfortable with himself than he was before. Whatever happened, Scorpius knew things weren’t going to be the same between them, but if Albus was finally opening up to him, then maybe, just maybe, they could be even better.

Albus gave Scorpius that flickering smile again, and this time some of it stuck. He looked brighter - still wrecked, but Scorpius thought there was a bit more _Albus_ in his eyes than there had been before. He hoped that he’d helped bring part of it back.

“I missed you,” Albus admitted.

“You saw me yesterday.”

“You know what I mean.”

Scorpius smiled at him and looped his arm through Albus’ as they turned toward the Burrow where even more noise seemed to be concentrated on the eastern side of the house - a sure sign that dinner was about to be served. Together, they started walking from the orchard, arm in arm for warmth, and Scorpius hoped with all his heart that they were walking towards something better than what they were leaving behind.

“Yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this even though it's well after Christmas. I'd obviously intended to finish it before the holidays were over but once I got off schedule, I got _way_ off schedule.
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this little story that's been nagging at me for quite some time. This one was very personal for me, and I hope that maybe it struck a chord with a few of you, too.
> 
> Thanks to my beta reader [@Slytherin629](https://slytherin629.tumblr.com/) for all of her amazing help!
> 
> As always, I would love to hear from you in the comments. You can also find me on Tumblr: [@ijustwalkintomordor.](https://ijustwalkintomordor.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in in this work. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.


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